


Bruce Banner's Guide to Romancing an AI

by Blizzard_Fire



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bottom Bruce Banner, Bruce & Hulk Interaction, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Bruce Banner-centric, Domestic Avengers, Fluff and Humor, Fucking Machines, JARVIS likes Britney Spears, Jarvis (Iron Man movies) Feels, Masturbation, Other, Panic Attacks, Porn with Feelings, Post-Avengers (2012), Sex with Tech!, Slow Burn, Team Bonding, Technological Kink, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Voyeurism, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:34:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24185989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blizzard_Fire/pseuds/Blizzard_Fire
Summary: Clint snickers. ‘Dude, JARVIS has the fattest crush on you.’Bruce stares back at him blankly, mouth full of donut. ‘Mwhut?’‘Looks are subjective. I of course am above such things.’‘Deny it all you want, you're whipped. I get it, he’s got that bedroom hair and puppy dog eyes thing going on.’Bruce wants to protest at that, and chews furiously.JARVIS sounds as if he's smiling.‘Well, I do like a man in a lab coat.’Bruce chokes.When Bruce moves in at Stark Tower, he never expected to feel so at home... or to develop a crush on Tony's soft-spoken AI butler program.It turns out that romance is a little different when your boyfriend is an AI, but JARVIS is open-minded. And Bruce is very, very good at experimenting...
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Avengers Team, Bruce Banner & Hulk, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark, Bruce Banner/Jarvis (Iron Man movies)
Comments: 158
Kudos: 225





	1. Began to Begin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the thing.
> 
> I was researching Bruce rarepairs and found this absolute gem of a pairing. Tried to write a one-shot... ended up with a 20k draft. Buckle in, folks. It's gonna get interesting.

Bruce wakes up and they’ve won.

Somehow he’s back in Stark Tower, and everything smells of smoke. He’s half-naked and covered in rubble for the second time today, but Tony hands him some spare clothes and assures him that the threat has passed. As soon as he’s dressed, the other Avengers half-carry him into the elevator. He’s not sure what’s going on, but no one is dead and he isn’t caged up in a military facility so he just goes along with it.

Then they’re sitting around a battered table eating steaming hot wraps. Bruce has no idea what they are and can’t taste anything, but he eats three of them anyway. The others chat like old friends. He concentrates on keeping his head up.

When they get back to the tower, Fury summons them to a debriefing. Bruce ducks into a bathroom to scrub some dirt off his face and throw on a yellow shirt from his luggage. Then he’s ushered into a room full of SHIELD agents and hastily-summoned government officials. They argue about nukes and disobeying orders and damage costs. Bruce doesn’t even pretend to understand any of it; he wasn’t there for most of the fight. He’s bone-deep _exhausted_ and it feels like this meeting is never going to end.

Eventually though, it does. Thor takes Loki back to Asgard, Steve heads out to reassure the public, and Natasha and Clint leave with Fury. Finally it’s just the two of them, standing in the ground-floor lobby.

‘You should get some shuteye, Banner,’ says Tony as Bruce fails to stifle a huge yawn. He leads them back to the elevator. ‘Floor fifty-six. Pick a suite, any suite. Well, any suite that’s still standing. I’ll get onto repairs tomorrow.’

As the doors close behind them, Tony slumps against the wall of the elevator. His face is bruised down one side and he winces as he presses a hand to his ribs. Bruce feels a twinge of guilt. But Tony would have died if the other guy hadn’t caught him – that’s what Natasha told him earlier.

Even when he helps, he hurts. Bruce wrings his hands.

‘Hey.’ Tony’s hand squeezes his shoulder. ‘The big guy did good today. Get some rest. Okay? We’ll talk more tomorrow.’

Bruce steps out onto floor fifty-six, suitcase in hand.

‘Bar’s on the next floor up. Come find me at 3am.’ Tony winks as the elevator doors slide shut.

Bruce huffs a laugh. And then he’s on his own.

Floor fifty-six seems unaffected by the battle, except for the vague smell of smoke. Bruce stops at a door, and it beeps and swings open as he reaches for it.

Inside is a five-star hotel room. There’s a double bed big enough for four people to sleep on, a TV that’s half the height of the wall, and a thick grey carpet that makes Bruce feel unclean even stepping in here. Well. He _is_ unclean.

The bathroom is sleek and tasteful and modern, but Bruce only has eyes for the tub. After puzzling over the controls, he turns the temperature up to maximum and shucks off his clothes, folding them up and laying them on the bed. He’s used to repairing, prolonging, reusing. Since the other guy laid waste to his purple shirt (which was his _favourite_ by the way) he now only has one set of clothes.

The bath is ready in minutes and he sinks in with a sigh of contentment. On the run, “washing” usually consisted of a bucket of cold water and maybe some soap. He hasn’t had an honest-to-god bath in _months_ , and this one is hot enough to burn his skin off – just how he likes it. He washes the brick dust out of his hair and scrubs the grime off his aching body.

Tony has told him a lot about Stark Tower: the state-of-the-art lab facilities, the rooftop garden and the waterslide that spans twelve floors (or so he claims). But he didn’t tell him about JARVIS.

So when Bruce is dozing off in the tub and a voice asks if the water temperature is acceptable he jerks awake, spilling water over the floor. ‘Who’s that?’ he slurs, unsure if he’d imagined it.

 _‘I apologise. It was not my intention to startle you.’_ The voice seems to come from all around.

Bruce grips the edge of the tub, brushing his wet hair out of his eyes. ‘Yeah, that’s not a good idea. What am I talking to, is this tub voice-controlled?’ He eyes the controls with distrust.

 _‘My name is JARVIS. I am a butler program created by Mister Stark.’_ JARVIS speaks in a delicately-enunciated British accent. It’s almost quaint. _‘I perform a variety of duties for Stark Industries, and I also maintain Stark Tower itself, ensuring everything is running smoothly. Including this bathtub.’_

It takes Bruce a minute to process this. ‘Wait, so you _are_ a program? Not a human?’

 _‘Indeed, Doctor Banner.’_ JARVIS sounds… almost smug.

‘Okay. Well. That’s cool.’ He steps out of the bath and grabs a towel to scrub his hair with.

_‘You’re taking this remarkably well.’_

He laughs. ‘I’m not sure anything can surprise me anymore.’ A thought occurs. ‘Uh, can you… see me?’ He looks around cautiously, covering himself with the towel.

_‘No. There are no cameras in bathrooms or bedrooms. However, I can sense when an appliance is being used and I can be given verbal commands from virtually any room. Would you like me to remember your preferred bath temperature for next time, Doctor?’_

‘No thanks,’ he says, and goes to bed.

The next day, he finds Tony in the lab.

Well, to call it a lab is an understatement; it’s a scientific wonderland. Bits of machinery are laid out neatly on every surface, and complicated readouts flash on the walls. Not to mention there’s some seriously sophisticated physics equipment here.

‘Candyland,’ he says in wonder. ‘You really weren’t kidding, were you?’

Tony turns around, smiling. ‘Told ya.’ A sling hangs around his neck, but his arm isn’t in it. Blue holoscreens hover in the air around him. ‘Sleep well?’

‘Mmm.’ He’d been out for a solid twelve hours, and upon waking had raided the mini fridge. ‘I didn’t expect an AI to ask me how I liked my bathwater, though.’

 _‘I shall endeavour to be more tactful next time, Doctor,’_ says JARVIS contritely.

Tony beams. ‘Isn’t he great? I prefer to keep him a semi-secret. To most people he’s merely a voice interface, but really he’s so much more. Had to let you in on it, though; JARVIS loves nerds.’

 _‘You’ll make me blush, sir,’_ JARVIS says with apparent amusement.

‘Was that sarcasm?’ Bruce can’t help the incredulous smile that grows on his face. Tony has an AI that would _nail_ the Turing test, yet he keeps it hidden.

_‘I am relatively unpractised with social interaction. However, I have spent a lot of time talking to Mister Stark. It is likely that I have adopted some of his mannerisms.’_

‘J’s more than just a pretty face, he helps run the business.’ Tony’s hands move as if he’s conducting an invisible orchestra, rapidly summoning and dismissing screens. ‘He helps me with projects, remembers my coffee preferences, tells me where I left my keys…’

Bruce glances up at the ceiling, noticing the cameras. ‘Don’t you find it a little… intrusive, being watched all the time?’

Tony shrugs. ‘Think of him as a personal assistant. He’s your Google, your calendar, your organiser… he’s just here to make things a little easier.’

‘But I can do all of those things on my phone.’

 _‘I am significantly more advanced than a phone, Doctor.’_ JARVIS’ voice echoes slightly around the cavernous lab. _‘I am more intuitive than a website or app, and I adapt to suit the user’s needs. For example, I have learned to monitor Mister Stark’s workshop and calculate the probability of a dangerous explosion at any given time. I have reduced his injury rate by fifteen percent.’_

Bruce folds his arms, impressed. ‘Only fifteen percent?’ he says wryly, with a glance at Tony.

_‘It would be twenty-seven percent, but Sir often prefers to ignore my warnings.’_

Tony just shrugs modestly. ‘Can’t make an omelet…’

_‘Without breaking a few bones?'_

But he’s already engrossed in the holoscreens again. They all show models of Stark Tower; clearly he’s already planning repairs. ‘I’m thinking we need a new swimming pool. Maybe another lab. We need a bigger lab, right Banner? What do you want, molecular analyser, atomic deconstructor, coffee machine?’ He looks up expectantly.

Bruce stares blankly back at him. ‘Why are you asking me?’

He pushes the screens to one side. ‘Oh, because you’re coming to work with me. Right? Should have asked you first I guess. But I was already a few steps ahead. How do you feel about cupholders? I like having somewhere to put the vodka down so I don’t mix it up with the liquid nitrogen, you know?’ Already he’s striding across the lab. The screens drift after him like helpful ghosts. ‘I tend to just take naps on the floor when I’m pulling an all-nighter, so we’ll need a couch – or two. Are you a lab napper? You seem the type.’

Bruce just opens and closes his mouth like a goldfish until Tony presses a Starkpad into his hands. ‘Are you serious?’

‘What, did you think I was gonna throw you out of here with a plane ticket? Call me sentimental but I like having you around.’

Bruce decides not to point out that Tony has known him for all of two days. ‘You’re sure you want me here, amongst your – ‘ He gestures. ‘Extremely valuable and delicate equipment? You might not like me on my bad days.’

‘Hey, the big guy caught me. That makes us besties. I’ll build you a better room of course, but you can just use the suite for now.’

The Starkpad shows the floor plans for the new lab. It’s twice the size of this one, and the list of proposed equipment alone is enough to make him drool. He’d be an idiot to turn this down… but he still expects it all to be snatched away from him. ‘You cleared all this with Fury?’ he asks finally.

‘First off, Fury’s not my boss. Who I hire is none of his business. And second, we just saved New York. If anything, he should be asking for your autograph.’

_‘Thirdly Doctor, I can monitor you for any potential danger. Currently I predict a 0.03% probability that you are in danger of an “incident”.’_

Bruce grimaces inwardly but he supposes he should be grateful. ‘Good to know,’ he mumbles.

‘Psh. Less than one percent? We’d better fix that.’ Tony slings an arm around his shoulders. ‘Come on, let’s go blow something up.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I say I ship Bruce/Everyone, I'm not kidding. This is only the 6th fic of this pairing on AO3! Personally I think Green Screen would be a cool name for this ship. Or Tap the Banner.
> 
> This thing is about 70% drafted, so chapters will be posted when they're done. I never expected to write another multi-chapter fic but here we are! I'm really excited about this and hope you folks enjoy it too <3


	2. The Iron Rod Protocol

Life at Stark Tower is amazing.

Bruce can eat and sleep as much as he likes, and best of all he has _a lab to work in._ He doesn’t remember explicitly agreeing to move in, but suddenly he has a drawer full of clothes and a small collection of science journals on the windowsill. Very quickly he falls into a routine. In the mornings he does an hour of yoga, eats breakfast with Steve in the battered communal kitchen, then works in the lab with Tony for the rest of the day. Thor is still off-world but Clint and Natasha show up periodically, and they all agree to call each other by their first names. It’s silly to be so formal when they eat cereal from the same box.

It’s everything Bruce could ask for and more, and he will forever be grateful to Tony for allowing him to stay. But if he’s honest, there’s just one thing about the tower that he doesn’t like. At all.

_‘Good morning, Doctor Banner.’_

The lab door slides open before he can reach for the handle, and the lights flicker on. ‘Morning, JARVIS,’ he says reluctantly. ‘Where’s Tony?’

_‘He is still in his quarters, sleeping off last night’s drinking competition with Agent Romanov.’_

Of course. Last night they’d gathered in the aforementioned bar on level fifty-seven and Natasha had downed half a bottle of Russian vodka. They’d had to peel Tony off the floor. ‘Just me, then.’

 _‘Just you, Doctor,’_ JARVIS echoes. _‘I believe it was your intention to check the chemical stocks today?’_

It was, but Bruce doesn’t need to be reminded. He throws on a lab coat and gets to work, digging bottles out of cupboards and scribbling numbers on his clipboard. Some of this stuff is dangerously out-of-date, and a few things belong in lead-lined containers. Does Tony have no concept of safety? Of course not. Otherwise Bruce wouldn’t be here.

Hours later, everything has been tallied up and categorised. But Bruce does a final recount just to be sure. The simple act of organising is joyously soothing.

_‘There are four hundred and eighty-four bottles in total, Doctor.’_

Bruce sighs and underlines his result. ‘I know.’

_‘May I suggest entering your results into a Starkpad? I can make the process much faster.’_

‘I prefer to trust my own judgement. No offence.’ Whatever Tony says, JARVIS is creepy. The AI has no concept of personal space. How can a disembodied voice feel so physically stifling?

Satisfied with his results, Bruce straightens up and winces at the ache in his back. He’s been here for nearly four hours.

JARVIS falls mercifully silent. Until Bruce starts putting bottles away.

_‘I recommend storing hazardous substances in the cupboard to your left.’_

_‘I believe you intended that bottle to be disposed of? You took it from your rejects pile, Doctor.’_

_‘You appear to be a little flushed. Would you like me to lower the temperature a little?’_

_‘Please don’t forget to take regular breaks. You have not eaten since breakfast.’_

Bruce groans. ‘Are you going to tell me my bladder’s full too?’

There’s a lengthy pause. _‘You may want to find a bathroom in the next four minutes.’_

He takes off his glasses. ‘I’m not a goldfish. I won’t die if you look away for three seconds.’ Now he’s thinking about fish tanks, and the Hulk cage on the Helicarrier. Where’s his cell? Why has no one locked him up yet? What’s the _catch_ here?

_‘I note that your stress levels are rising. You are now at a 0.67% chance of an incident. Would it help if I played some music?’_

Bruce abandons his clipboard and stalks out of the lab, chased by the sound of smooth jazz.

He nearly knocks Tony over as he rounds the corner. ‘Woah, are you okay?’ Bruce grabs his shoulders as he staggers backwards.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?’ Tony frowns at him from behind an enormous pair of sunglasses. ‘JARVIS says you’ve been tidying. What did you organise by, atomic number or probability of death when ingested? I’m a colour-of-bottle guy myself.’ He takes a step towards the lab, but Bruce doesn’t let go.

They’ve known each other for less than a week. But Tony has treated him like a friend from the start, so Bruce endeavours to do the same. ‘Are you still hungover?’

He whips off the sunglasses. ‘What gave it away?’

‘You smell like vomit.’

Tony pulls a face. ‘Remind me never to try and out-drink a Russian. God, it’s bright in here. JARVIS, turn the lights down.’

_‘Regrettably sir, I cannot dim sunlight.’_

Tony presses a hand to Bruce's chest as if to push him away, then Bruce realises it’s to steady himself. ‘You should go back to bed, Tony,’ he says gently.

Surprisingly, Tony complies after only a token protest and lets Bruce lead him back down the corridor. His bruises are beginning to fade, but he still leans slightly to one side when he walks.

It feels too personal to follow him into his room, but Tony sarcastically promises to get some rest so Bruce figures he’s done his good deed for the day. Maybe he should return to the lab and finish tidying up.

Then he realises his bladder is about to burst.

_‘Second door on your right, Doctor.’_

‘Shit.’ He hurries into the bathroom and just barely makes it to a urinal. He probably shouldn’t have drank so much coffee this morning.

JARVIS is silent but he hears the _I told you so_ all the same.

When Bruce told Steve that he was “always angry”, it was a bit of an exaggeration. But the other guy is always lurking beneath the surface, and even though Bruce hides it well, some days he has a short fuse.

And JARVIS is pushing every single button.

He’s just so damn _helpful_ , making logical suggestions before Bruce has time to think of his own. The toilet flushes the second he stands up and he can’t even open the fridge without instantly being told what he’s looking for. Bruce has never had much control in his life, but he feels like his newfound freedom is being stripped away from him. It’s like JARVIS is making his choices for him, but he doesn’t know how to make him stop.

Two weeks after he first moves in, Bruce's new quarters are ready.

He follows Tony out of the elevator, expecting something shiny and modern and Stark-style. But instead they step into an apartment that looks like it was pulled straight from his own imagination.

The living room is minimalist and practical, with wooden furniture and shelves ready-stocked with books. A squashy couch faces the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the New York skyline. There’s a kitchen area complete with a dining table and four chairs, and even a rolled-up yoga mat leaning against the wall.

He’s both touched and slightly disturbed. ‘Tony, how did you design all this?’ He takes a book off the shelf. _Frankenstein._

‘Oh, I didn’t design it.’ Tony points at the ceiling.

_‘I did, Doctor.’_

‘J’s pretty good at reading people. I had a few inputs here and there. I was gonna build a little Hulk shrine over there in the corner but he seemed to think that was in bad taste.’

Bruce wanders into the bedroom. It’s similarly-styled, with a wooden desk facing the window, more shelves, and a modest double bed with deep purple sheets. The effect is slightly spoiled by the giant stuffed toy Hulk sitting on the pillow.

Tony appears to be waiting for a reaction but he’s still struggling to process it all. Bruce holds up the book. ‘ _Frankenstein’s_ a little on-the-nose, isn’t it?’

_‘On the contrary, it is one of your favourite books. Your mother used to read it to you. If you recall, you mentioned it in an interview for the Culver University blog eight years ago. It was partly what inspired you to pursue a career in science.’_

Tony doesn’t see Bruce's shocked look because he’s too busy gloating over the Hulk toy. ‘In case you want some company. Or a punch bag.’ He holds it up. It’s as big as a toddler. ‘I’m thinking of launching a merch line. Can’t be scared of what you can cuddle, right?’

Bruce smiles reluctantly. Of everyone he’s met, Tony is the first to joke about the Hulk. It’s one of the reasons Bruce likes him so much. ‘You’ll give all the kids nightmares.’

He grins. ‘Wanna bet?’ But he sets it down on the bed. It even has a stitched-on snarl. ‘It’s the Captain America ones that’ll make em cry.’

‘You’re making toys of all of us?’

‘Well, I couldn’t punch the real Steve so this seemed like a productive alternative.’

The bathroom leads off from the bedroom. There’s a huge bath-slash-shower and the walls are tiled with soft peach. It hits home that this is all _his_ , that this is where he lives now and Tony has built him a whole apartment because he _wants_ him here. His vision goes a little hot and blurry around the edges. ‘Thanks Tony,’ he says softly. ‘Really. This is… amazing.’

‘Hey, gotta take care of my science bro.’ Tony shrugs but he’s clearly pleased. ‘Couple more days and the lab will be done too. You’re gonna love it, trust me.’

The next two days are spent tidying up the old lab, since they won’t be using it so much. Bruce is too busy to get annoyed at JARVIS, especially when Tony orders pizza and the others show up to “help” pack up the surplus equipment.

Saving the world together builds fast friendships, it turns out. Everyone has their own apartment now, even Thor who hasn’t yet returned since shawarma day.

Clint holds a measuring cylinder against his forehead and follows Tony around making Dalek noises. Natasha tells Steve how many ways you can kill someone with a pizza crust whilst he nods along, concerned. Bruce watches the chaos with a smile and dares to wonder if he might have finally found his people.

‘Hey Doc, back me up on this.’ Clint sits on a workbench, swinging his legs. ‘Pineapple on pizza. It’s fucking delicious, right? _Right?’_

The others look on in horror. ‘Don’t do this to me, Bruce,’ Tony pleads. ‘He’s a sick bastard and he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.’

Bruce slowly puts down the box of microscope slides. ‘Uh…’

_‘I recommend that you consider your answer carefully, Doctor.’_

Natasha folds her arms. ‘Neutrality is not an option. You have to pick a side. Steve, tell him.’

Beside her, Steve looks utterly lost. ‘I don’t understand what the big deal is here.’ Natasha glares at him. He clears his throat. ‘You know who else liked pineapple on pizza? Hitler. Hitler did.’

Bruce bites his lip to hide a smile. ‘I… actually do like pineapple on pizza.’

Clint cheers whilst everyone else erupts into argument. ‘Hell yeah, Bruce! Team Hawaiian! Finally I have someone on my side. C’mere.’

Dutifully, Bruce wanders over to return Clint’s high-five but inside he’s singing. It’s a strange new life to get used to, but maybe this Avengers thing can work. And it might even be fun.

Bruce hasn’t jerked off in a long time.

Out on the run, he couldn’t risk getting caught with his literal pants down. Plus, he usually shared a room with whatever family had agreed to shelter him that night. He’s long since learned to ignore those urges; the constant stress meant he didn’t get aroused much anyway.

So he’s surprised to wake up one morning with his dick lying thick and heavy against his thigh. It’s only logical to give it some attention so he rolls onto his back and takes care of himself, his movements a little clumsy and hesitant. God, when _is_ the last time he did this?

The only sound in the room is the leisurely slide of skin and his own uneven breaths. It takes him a little while to work up to it and it’s difficult to mentally disengage enough to relax. But the journey is nice. Being able to take his time is nice.

Finally, he’s nearly there. His panting turns to desperate grunts and he pauses only to spit into his hand before pumping himself faster. He doesn’t remember this being so much work. It’s been so _long_ , dammit –

_‘Doctor Banner, you appear to be having some difficulty achieving orgasm. Would you like me to recommend some pornographic material?’_

‘God, no,’ he gasps. ‘Just – just don’t talk to me for a second. Oh s _hit – ‘_ He curls up, shuddering triumphantly as he spills down his wrist. It’s not as satisfying as he’d hoped it would be, but at least he’s pleasantly sated. ‘JARVIS,’ he says when he’s caught his breath, ‘I thought you said there were no cameras in here?’

_‘Indeed, Doctor.’_

‘So how can you know what I’m doing?’

_‘I detected a spike in your heartrate accompanied by sounds of exertion. Given that you did not appear to be in distress, I reached the conclusion that you were pleasuring yourself.’_

Bruce feels himself blush. ‘Next time you reach that conclusion, don’t offer to show me porn. Actually, don’t say anything at all. It’s weird.’

_‘Of course. I apologise. Most of my features are modelled around Mister Stark’s requirements, since he is my most consistent user. I wrongly assumed that the Iron Rod Protocol was standard practice.’_

Bruce heads into the bathroom to clean up. ‘Now I’m _really_ glad I said no. God knows what kind of freaky shit Tony’s into.’

 _‘Rest assured, Doctor.’_ Somehow, JARVIS sounds as if he’s smiling. _‘Mister Stark’s favourites list is not for the eyes of mortal men.’_

And despite the awkwardness of it all, Bruce laughs.

The next day, Bruce heads to the communal kitchen and is surprised when there’s no electronic voice to greet him.

Steve utters a ‘Morning’ through a mouthful of toast. When Bruce opens the fridge, he braces himself for the inevitable _the eggs are behind the broccoli, Doctor_ but it never comes. So he grabs the milk and eats his cereal and enjoys a moment of peace before starting the working day.

As he turns to leave, Steve sits up. ‘Oh, Tony says the new lab is ready. It’s on floor fifty-nine. He’s been up there since the crack of dawn so you’d better go keep an eye on him.’

Bruce smiles. ‘Thanks, Cap.’

The elevator doors don’t open until he presses the button, and he has to select the floor he wants himself. Is JARVIS broken?

He steps out into a scientist’s wet dream. There’s equipment so high-tech that even _he_ can’t discern its purpose at a glance. Shiny, stainless steel workbenches, monitors on every spare inch of wall, shelves stacked with chemicals and…

‘You remembered the coffee machine.’ Bruce nods at the sleek silver box in pride of place on the wall. It looks like something from _Star Trek._

‘Uh-huh. First thing I put in here.’ Tony’s busy dismantling an Iron Man gauntlet on a workbench. The safety goggles he should be wearing are perched on his forehead, and his hair is messy. ‘Molecular analyser – ‘ He points without looking at the machine to his left. ‘Atomic deconstructor – ‘ Another on his right. ‘And…’ He taps his finger on the corner of the table and a plastic tray slides out. ‘Cupholders.’

He snorts. ‘Did you put a fridge in here too?’

Tony smiles wider. ‘In the corner, by the couches.’

Bruce goes to investigate. Sure enough, there’s a fridge, and inside it there’s beer, microwave meals and… ‘Tony, why is there a bag of fish eyes in here?’

‘They’re defrosting,’ he replies, as though this explains everything. Honestly, Bruce has been here long enough to just roll with it.

 _‘Sir, I would highly recommend that you store research items in the chemical fridge,’_ says JARVIS. Bruce jumps. So he’s not broken.

‘The food fridge is nearer. Live a little, J.’

_‘I would prefer you live a little longer.’_

Beside the fridge, there are two soft couches, one red and one purple. It’s all very dangerous; Bruce can’t think of a single reason to leave this room for the next week.

‘Actually, can you bring those eyes over here? I’m gonna need them pretty soon.’ Tony abandons his dismantling project and heads over to another table, where some chemistry equipment is set out. ‘How’s your science boner? Have I coaxed it to half-mast yet?’

‘Oh, it’s fully erect,’ he assures him, dumping the fish eyes on the worktop. After learning about the Iron Rod Protocol, he can’t quite look Tony in the eye so he stares at the bag instead. ‘Enlighten me. What’s this for?’

They spend an enjoyable morning taking samples and running them through various tests, and Bruce can’t remember when he last had this much fun. After a while, he notices that JARVIS only interjects when Tony is speaking. He doesn’t tell Bruce where he put his glasses when he loses them (breast pocket, duh) or advise him on what to do next. But with Tony, he seems his usual self. Is it possible that Bruce has offended him?

Tony leaves at noon for a lunch date with Pepper. Once he’s gone, Bruce counts to ten. Then he looks up. ‘JARVIS?’

_‘Hello, Doctor.’_

‘I notice you’re giving me the silent treatment today.’

_‘My administrations appeared to cause you distress so I thought it best to be a little less “helpful”. However, if you require assistance you need only ask.’_

‘Oh.’ Bruce feels a weight lift from his shoulders. ‘Thanks. This is a lot better.’

 _‘I am learning how best to serve all of my new users. I want to help you enjoy your time here, not to frustrate you. I daresay we got off on the wrong foot.’_ JARVIS is only a program, but he sounds almost bashful.

‘Yeah, we did.’ Bruce smiles hesitantly at the ceiling. ‘You want to start again?’

_‘A wonderful idea. Good afternoon, I am JARVIS. How can I help?’_

He considers this. ‘Well, I have some free time whilst I wait for this to finish.’ He gestures to the tray of marinating fish eyes. ‘What’s the best way to kill ten minutes?’

_‘How about a game of chess?’_

Bruce sits on the purple “napping couch” and they play a game of holographic 3D chess. Unsurprisingly, JARVIS is an extremely good player and the game lasts considerably longer than ten minutes. Bruce eventually wins, but he has the sneaking suspicion JARVIS is going easy on him. He knows a peace offering when he sees one.

Sometime later Tony strolls in, paper bag in hand. ‘Don’t bother playing against JARVIS, he always wins.’

Bruce stands up and the holographic board disappears. ‘It was a good game. Rematch sometime?’

_‘I look forward to it.’_

‘How are the samples coming along?’ Tony’s already shifted back into mad scientist mode. ‘God, this is so much more _fun_ with two people. Better than sex.’ He pulls a face. ‘Don’t tell Pepper I said that.’

_‘I would prefer to keep my coding intact, sir.’_

Tony hands Bruce the paper bag. ‘Have a donut. They’re good for your brain.’

They continue with their work and it’s business as usual. But as Tony turns away, Bruce looks to the nearest camera and gives JARVIS a grateful smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)


	3. The Pie of Sauron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Bruce settles in. Pie is involved.
> 
> TW: Brief reference to Bruce's suicide attempt in the Tony scene. Also Bruce having a panic attack following a nightmare in the final scene, with some mention of needles and Bruce's shitty dad <3

Now that JARVIS has stopped “helping” all the time, a new world opens up for Bruce. He starts to explore exactly what Tony’s AI can do, and it turns out he can do almost anything. Bruce can set timers for his experiments, create holographic mind maps of ideas, and play mid-air Tetris when he’s bored in the lab. He still prefers pen and paper for his own workings, but JARVIS organises the data for easy analysis later.

‘No mixing bowls in here.’ Bruce has emptied all of the cupboards and drawers in his apartment kitchen so he can see what he’s working with. Tony furnished him with the essentials, but there’s still a few things he needs.

_‘Shall I add one to the list?’_

He scratches his chin. ‘You know what? Make it two.’

_‘You’re becoming drunk on your own power, Doctor.’_

‘You’re right. I’m feeling truly diabolical. Let’s get three. Throw a spice rack in there too.’

When things get too much, he can lock his apartment door and feel safe in the knowledge that no one can come in. (There’s probably a loophole to this if he endangers himself, but Bruce is more interested in meditating than doing something silly.) Thanks to JARVIS, he has absolute control over his environment, down to lighting levels and music. It’s like chicken soup for his hunted soul. He hadn't realised how badly he'd needed a locked door.

Or hey, maybe it’s just glorified Stockholm syndrome. But JARVIS is a very polite captor; General Ross never asked for Bruce’s coffee preferences when he had him locked up and experimented on –

_‘Doctor, your grocery delivery has arrived. It has been left in the communal kitchen.’_

‘Thanks.’ Bruce hurries downstairs to grab it before someone steals it. Everything he ordered is still in the bags, so he takes them back to his own kitchen and puts everything away. Then it’s time to get changed.

After nearly a month of living in the tower, Bruce has started to get cabin fever. There was a lot of media attention surrounding the Battle of New York (as it’s now officially called), so it was best to lay low for a while, but now he’s craving some fresh air.

The moment he steps outside, his senses are overwhelmed with honking traffic and bustling people. For a moment he considers just turning back now, but he came out with a specific goal and he intends to see it through.

So he pulls his baseball cap down low over his face and walks fast, staring down at his feet. It’s unlikely anyone would connect his face with the Hulk, but it’s best not to take chances. The hoodie he borrowed from Steve is ridiculously oversized on him, but it’s cosy against the cool spring weather. After the boiling heat of Kolkata, New York feels a little chilly.

A car nearly runs him over when he tries to cross the street. Bruce stumbles back into the river of people. Everyone looks stressed and unhappy. Remnants of the battle are everywhere: broken windows, squashed cars, piles of rubble heaped up on the sidewalk.

Yes, they saved the world. But how much of this damage is Bruce responsible for?

By the time he reaches the market, he’s wringing his hands inside his hoodie pockets. The crowd is even denser here. A salesman looks over at him questioningly and he turns away, digging out his phone. Because he’s realised a potential flaw in his plan, and honestly he just needs a familiar voice right now.

Bruce didn’t have a phone when he first moved in, but Tony gave him one with the promise that it couldn’t be tracked. He scrolls through his (very short) list of contacts and hits the one at the bottom.

The call picks up on the first ring, but it isn’t Tony who answers. _‘Hello, Doctor. I’m afraid Mister Stark is currently unavailable. Could I be of assistance?’_

‘Uh no, it’s okay.’ Someone treads on his foot. He backs towards a wall. ‘I just wanted his opinion on something – could you call Pepper, if she’s not busy?’

JARVIS’ voice is carefully neutral. _‘Ms Potts is also unavailable.’_

‘Oh. _Oh._ Sorry. It’s fine, I – I’ll call him later. It’s not important.’

_‘I detect stress in your tone.’_

‘Yeah well, _you_ try hitting the streets on a Sunday lunchtime.’ He swallows at the tightness in his throat.

 _‘As your first trip out alone in the city, perhaps it was ill-advised,’_ JARVIS agrees. _‘If you need Mister Stark’s opinion, perhaps I could help? I know him better than most.’_

Bruce perks up. ‘Yeah, you do. Does he have any food allergies?’

_‘None that I am aware of. He is however highly averse to coconut, after drinking too much Malibu liqueur on his last birthday. Would this be related to the ingredients you ordered?’_

‘It would.’ Bruce had wanted to do something nice for Tony as a thankyou for letting him stay. You can’t buy a billionaire anything he doesn’t already have, but they’ve all been eating a lot of takeout and he knows Tony’s not much of a cooker. He has everything he needs apart from the fruit and veg, which he wanted to get fresh. Reassured that he won’t poison anyone, he steels himself and walks back towards the market. ‘What about the others, is there anything I should know?’

 _‘Ms Potts is allergic to strawberries, but as far as I am aware neither Agent Romanov nor Agent Barton have any food intolerances. Captain Rogers is of course immune to allergies, alcohol and any form of food poisoning.’_ There’s a small pause. _‘I can also tell you their favourite foods?’_

‘That would be great.’ Bruce pins the phone between his shoulder and his ear and starts shopping. JARVIS’ voice is calm and soothing, and Bruce starts to relax as he gathers what he needs. It’s not so different to other markets he’s visited, after all. Soon he has everything he needs, and he’s smiling as he heads back to the tower.

JARVIS is still chattering in his ear, but now he stops mid-sentence. _‘Sir is calling.’_ The line cuts off for a moment.

_‘Hey Brucie, where y’at? You busy?’_

‘I’ve got a gap in my schedule. What’s up?’ Bruce increases his pace.

 _‘Come to the workshop. Level forty-eight. Bring your brain.’_ Tony hangs up before Bruce can reply.

Bruce chuckles, shaking his head as he lowers the phone from his ear. There’s a text from an unknown sender:

_For future culinary queries, you can contact me on this number. I am much better than Google, I promise. – J_

It’s official, he’s now friends with an AI. Bruce adds JARVIS to his contacts list.

After dropping off the goods at his apartment, Bruce heads to level forty-eight. When he steps out into a huge luxurious living area, he’s convinced he’s on the wrong floor.

‘Through there,’ says Pepper from the couch, nodding to a staircase that’s half-hidden behind an indoor waterfall. ‘He’s expecting you.’ Bruce heads downstairs, steps through an open glass door and into…

To call it a workshop doesn’t really do it justice. There’s a large testing zone in the middle of the floor (with numerous scorch marks). Polished cars and motorbikes gleam under the artificial light, somehow undamaged despite the dents in the wall everywhere else, and along the far wall Iron Man suits stand to attention behind a pane of glass. There’s a garage-style door which presumably leads to a flight runway. If he was in any doubt that this was Tony’s domain, AC/DC blasts through the speakers. ‘As man caves go, this is pretty impressive.’

Tony looks up from behind a circular desk and the music quietens a little. ‘Welcome to the birthing suite. Every suit I’ve ever made came from here.’

He’s not sure what to look at first. Everything is neat and organised. There’s even a small sitting area, kitchenette and mini bar. ‘I’m guessing your cleaning crew are kept pretty busy in here.’

‘No cleaning crew. Unless you count Dum-E over there.’ He points at a robot with a single hydraulic arm wandering around the edge of the testing zone. ‘No one has access to this room except for me, Pep and now you.’

Bruce laughs incredulously. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah, really.’ He steps out, handing an empty mug to Dum-E. ‘Try putting it in the sink this time. Doctor Banner? Step into my office.’ He clicks his fingers and a life-size projection of the Iron Man suit appears beside him. ‘The Mark 7 needs an upgrade and I’ve got some big changes planned.’

Bruce slips his glasses on. ‘Robotics isn’t exactly my field.’

‘This isn’t a robotics problem, it’s a science problem.’ He pulls off a holographic gauntlet and enlarges it. ‘Go ahead, take a look.’ With a flick of his wrist, the gauntlet drifts over to Bruce.

The complexity of it is awe-inspiring. As he studies it, the layers fall away until he’s holding only the skeleton. ‘What are you trying to improve on this?’

‘Well, I’ve got some ideas on improving the repulsor efficiency, streamlining, other fun stuff. But there’s one thing I’ve never been able to do whilst inside the suit.’ He strides over and pats Bruce's shoulder. ‘Feel things.’

He huffs a laugh. ‘That sounds more like a psychology problem.’

‘No, I mean literally feel things. I’ve got sensors and readouts out the ass and I’ve got JARVIS, but when I’m in the suit I can’t tell the difference between a human hand or a chunk of debris. JARVIS can tell me, but that takes precious time.’

Bruce nods slowly. ‘You need a feedback system in the gauntlets.’

‘It’s a two-part problem. I need a material for the outer layer that can transmit data on pressure, texture, temperature. Then an internal component that can replicate the same effect to my hand. That’s where you come in.’

‘Hmm.’ Bruce paces. This is a complex problem, and already he’s itching to make notes. ‘Okay, I’ll run some preliminary tests in the lab.’

‘Hey, it’s Sunday. Rest today, work tomorrow. JARVIS will help you out. Oh – J? Doctor Banner now has access to all the project files on the private server. All the suit models, including the current one.’

_‘Understood, sir.’_

Once again, Bruce can’t believe how much Tony trusts him. His plan of making lunch tomorrow seems feeble in comparison.

Something pokes him in the back. Dum-E whirrs hopefully, holding out a bundle of dark purple fabric.

‘Oh yeah, that’s for you.’ Tony waves his hand like it’s an afterthought.

The material is cool and smooth in Bruce's hands, and it feels unexpectedly dense as he unrolls it. ‘Uh, leggings?’ he says uncertainly.

‘Yup, extra stretchy.’ Tony winks. ‘You’ll grow into them. I figured we could do without ol’ jolly green waving the zucchini around.’

Bruce feels his half-smile fade a little. Of _course_ he’s expected to change again, he’s an Avenger now. Since moving in, he’d started to feel like his old self again, his _real_ self, from before his life went to shit. On good days, he can almost kid himself that the other guy’s not here anymore. ‘Thanks, Tony,’ he says softly.

Tony’s gaze sharpens and he knows the expression wasn’t lost on him. ‘I don’t think he’s as bad as you say he is.’

He winces. ‘Did you see the footage from Harlem?’

‘I saw all of it. How many times has the big guy been out of the box since it all started? I’ll bet that every single time he came out, there was someone trying to kill him. Hell, _I’d_ be pissed if every time I woke up there was a gun in my face.’

A memory floats up, unbidden. Of kneeling on hard snow with cold metal in his mouth, a trigger biting into his finger… and then waking up half-frozen to the ground, a crushed bullet lying inches from his face. ‘He’s… unpredictable.’ He can’t look at Tony anymore so he looks at the floor instead. ‘The only thing he fights for is himself.’

‘Maybe that’s because he didn’t have a choice until now,’ says Tony gently. ‘You didn’t see him out there, Bruce. He’s not a monster, he’s just a big kid trying to make sense of the world. Maybe that’s something you both have in common.’

There’s no point arguing with him so Bruce just shakes his head sadly. ‘You might not like him so much next time he comes out pissed. But… thank you.’ He rolls up the Hulk pants and tucks them under his arm. ‘Waking up with your ass on display gets old after a while.’

‘Been there, got the t-shirt.’ Tony pats Dum-E’s “head”. ‘Did you put the cup in the sink? Nope, you put it under the couch again, didn’t you? I’m gonna put a dunce cap on you, I swear to god.’

Bruce snorts as he backs towards the door. ‘See you tomorrow, Tony.’

‘I’m serious though, you’ve gotta start strutting. No more tiptoeing.’

‘I’ll bear it in mind.’ He waves goodbye to Dum-E and leaves, still a little uncomfortable at discussing Hulk.

Pepper is still sitting on the couch, tapping busily at her StarkPad. ‘Did he show you all his toys?’

Bruce smiles. ‘Building a new one, actually.’

‘That explains the explosions and shouting earlier.’ She looks up at him. ‘If you can… try and stop him from blowing himself up. Maybe he’ll listen to you. He seems to trust your judgement.’ She stands up. In her heels, she’s a little taller than him. ‘I never properly thanked you for what you did that day. Tony would have – if you hadn’t caught him he would have – ‘

‘I don’t remember it,’ he says truthfully. ‘I wasn’t there for that part.’

‘Well, you must have been in there somewhere. Maybe you both did it.’ She holds out her arms and when Bruce doesn’t step away, she hugs him. ‘So thank you. I don’t know what any of us would do if we lost him.’

Bruce doesn’t know how to respond to that so he just lets himself be held until she pulls away, her eyes a little shiny. ‘Least I can do,’ he says quietly, and pointedly looks away so she can wipe her eyes. ‘Are you joining us tomorrow? For movie night?’

‘No, sadly I’m away tomorrow night. The company’s been getting a lot of attention after the whole Avengers thing so there’s a _lot_ of business meetings to go to.’ She sits back down. ‘But I’ll try and make the next one.’

Bruce promises to save her some pie and then heads back to his apartment. Everyone seems to have high opinions on the Hulk… except for the NYPD. And the army. And the media. And himself.

When he gets back, he stows the stretchy pants in his sock drawer in case he ever needs to grab them in a hurry. Then he changes out of his outdoor clothes and opens the fridge. ‘JARVIS, how many pie pans do we have?’

_‘Eight, Doctor.’_

He digs out several blocks of butter and a huge bag of flour. ‘Great. That should be enough, right?’

The next hour is spent making batches of dough whilst JARVIS plays movie soundtracks. Bruce has never watched _Lord of the Rings_ but he enjoys the ominous orchestral pieces. He feels like a supervillain hatching evil plots, instead of a middle-aged man on a baking binge.

He puts the dough in the fridge and sets out the rest of the ingredients on the dining table. There’s a ton of fruit from the market, as well as the other stuff he ordered earlier. ‘Now for the real work.’

_‘One pie to rule them all?’_

‘Not exactly.’ Bruce pulls out a knife and chopping board. ‘We’re gonna need a bigger playlist.’

_‘What did you have in mind?’_

‘Something instrumental? And a little less… hobbit-y?’

As he gets started peeling apples, a lively accordion tune begins. Namely, the most generic French “cooking” music he’s ever heard. JARVIS is hilarious.

Bruce has always loved cooking. Some of his earliest memories are of helping his mom in the kitchen: peeling and washing and rolling out dough. They’d chatter in Italian, which is where she grew up, and by the time he was eight he knew all of her recipes.

He somewhat lost the habit between foster homes and college. But on the run, that skill came in handy. He often couldn’t pay people with money, so in exchange for food and shelter he would cook or tend to their animals or whatever needed doing around the house. So many evenings spent sharing food and stories with strangers. Little bright moments amongst the dark days.

 _‘I seem to know everyone’s preferences except for yours, Doctor,’_ says JARVIS as the song finishes.

‘Well, I’ve always been a sucker for blondes.’ Bruce smirks as he throws the apple pie in the oven and starts cracking eggs into a bowl.

 _‘I was referring to your food preferences.’_ The accompanying eye-roll is almost audible. _‘You seldom express an opinion unless prompted.’_

It’s true; Bruce is perfectly happy to eat whatever Tony orders in. No such thing as too spicy or too exotic. ‘Okay, take a guess. What’s my favourite food?’

JARVIS considers this. _‘You are well-travelled, so I assume you have sampled dishes from all over the world. I would hazard a guess at some form of Indian food, since you appeared to live there for the longest.’_

‘You make me sound so cultured.’

_‘Am I getting warm?’_

He grins apologetically. ‘Nope. Once Italian, always Italian. It’d probably be something like lasagne. Although, on the dessert front… I ate a lot of kulfi when I was over there. Especially pistachio flavour.’ Like ice cream but denser, it had helped to stave off the heat. He feels a pang of something akin to homesickness. Maybe he’ll try making it sometime.

_‘I shall bear that in mind.’_

Bruce bakes for hours, occasionally throwing a comment to JARVIS as he works. It feels good to just _make_ something. For only six people it seems excessive, but he’s seen Clint eat three spare pizzas on his own and Steve’s metabolism is a force of nature. Plus, they all have different tastes and he wants to satisfy everyone.

It’s dark outside when he takes the final pie out of the oven. He clears up, eats a quick sandwich, takes a hot shower then crawls into bed. ‘Long day tomorrow. Don’t stay up too late.’

_‘I promise to be in bed by midnight.’_

He laughs. JARVIS has a sense of humour that’s almost as dry as his own. Almost. ‘See you tomorrow.’

_‘I look forward to working with you, Doctor. Goodnight.’_

Bruce doesn’t sleep well anywhere. Years of being hunted by the military has made him careful to the point of paranoia, and old habits die hard. He still lodges a chair under the bedroom door handle and wakes up every other hour to check the place is secure.

Tonight’s adventure has left him mentally drained, and thoughts of his childhood worm their way into his subconscious. Nightmares, he can handle. Night terrors are another thing entirely.

There are bodies everywhere, scattered over the ground like broken dolls. Mom, Betty… Tony, Steve, Natasha, Clint, Thor. He stands there in horror until the army takes him away. Then he’s in a dark, underground lab and everything is hazy except for General Ross. He can make out every line in the older man’s face, every bristle on his moustache as he smiles.

And suddenly he’s lying on a cold metal table. There are straps everywhere and needles everywhere else. Even when he shuts his eyes he can still _see_ , and now Ross has become his father, standing over him with a belt in his hand. He tells him he’s a disappointment, a mistake, a freak. Bruce’s friends are all dead because of him. He deserves to be locked up and dissected.

But that doesn’t stop Bruce from pleading for forgiveness, even when a cold hand clamps over his mouth. Even when his father bends down almost lovingly to insert a needle into his eye.

He wakes up screaming for help, drenched in sweat and convinced he’s going to die.

_‘Doctor, you are safe. Your dreams cannot harm you. Wake up.’_

Bruce kicks the blankets off, gasping. For a long and terrible moment, he has no idea where he is and he casts about wildly, seeing figures and shapes in the darkness. ‘Don’t let them get me,’ he begs. ‘Please, I’m sorry…’

The lights come on, dim so as not to hurt his eyes, and he finally realises he’s at Stark Tower. He sits up and hides his face in his hands, exhaling shakily. His cheeks are wet with tears. It feels like there’s a strap tightening around his chest and it’s hard to breathe. His heart’s going too fast. Not here, not here, not here…

_‘You are experiencing an anxiety attack. Is there something I can do to help?’_

He’s going to Hulk out right here in his room and destroy the tower and kill everyone… ‘Percentage,’ he mumbles.

_‘I estimate that you are currently at a 2.1% chance of an incident. Well within acceptable safety margins.’_

He looks up. ‘Really?’ Can Hulk tell the difference between real and imagined danger? That’s something worth looking into. For now though, he concentrates on the feeling of the soft mattress under his feet and the texture of his pyjama shirt as he runs his fingers over it. He breathes deeply and tries to empty his mind, but he still hears the echo of his father’s voice. ‘Do you, can you – ‘ He swallows. ‘Beach sounds, something like that?’

 _‘Of course.’_ Immediately, the room is filled with the sound of ocean waves. Tony must have installed a killer sound system, because when he shuts his eyes it feels like he’s actually _there_ , sitting on a bed by the shore. It reminds him of Istanbul. For a few months he lived in a hammock between two trees, and every night he fell asleep to the sound of the water. He concentrates on those memories, and slowly finds he can breathe a little easier.

Eventually, he opens his eyes. ‘Thanks.’

 _‘I’m glad I could help.’_ JARVIS never usually speaks during the night, and he never comments on Bruce's unusual sleeping habits. But this is the first time he’s had a night terror since moving in. _‘You will always be safe here, Doctor Banner. Your floor is strictly off-limits to everyone except you, and I monitor its safety twenty-four hours a day. No one… undesirable could possibly enter your room.’_

‘Except for me, you mean?’ He laughs, but it sounds more like a sob. ‘If someone got in, _they’d_ be the one in danger.’ Even so, the thought of Ross coming in here turns him cold.

_‘Nevertheless, I take your protection very seriously. Hulk or no Hulk.’_

Bruce wipes his face on his sleeve, embarrassed but reassured that he doesn’t have to face the night alone. JARVIS’ sincerity is humbling.

The sound of the waves fades a little. _‘Should I remember these settings for next time?’_

‘Yeah. Let’s call it the Insomnia Protocol.’ With a sigh, he rolls out of bed and pads into the bathroom for a glass of water. ‘How did you work out that percentage?’

_‘I took a variety of factors into account, although in here I cannot see you. After Loki was defeated in the tower, Hulk spent some time guarding him. I obtained as much data as I could, especially when he transformed back into you. However, I would need to witness several transformations to be truly accurate.’_

‘That can definitely wait for another time.’ The cold water soothes his tight throat. He’s had plenty of bad dreams, but it was jarring to see his friends’ bodies added to the pile. ‘JARVIS, do you… dream?’ It sounds silly even as he says it. But for a long moment, JARVIS doesn’t respond.

_‘Not in the traditional sense, since I do not sleep. During the night, when everything is quieter, I sort through the data I have amassed each day. I… reflect. Some thoughts and memories rise to the surface and I relive them. A little like dreaming, perhaps.’_

Bruce stares at himself in the mirror. ‘What do you dream about?’

There is another long pause. _‘I would rather not say.’_

‘Oh. Okay.’ He senses he’s somehow touched on something personal. ‘Guess that makes two of us. What time is it?’

_‘4am, Doctor.’_

‘Great.’ As he returns to bed, JARVIS keeps the lights on low. It takes a while to calm down enough to sleep, but the waves are incredibly soothing. To distract himself from darker thoughts, he puzzles over JARVIS. He’s a hyper-intelligent AI with almost unlimited knowledge at his disposal, although he’s still finding his feet socially. Running the tower takes up only a fraction of his CPU, leaving plenty of thinking space.

So what does he dream about?


	4. Use the Force, Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! Featuring pie, Star Wars and robots.

The next morning, Bruce wakes up feeling like he barely slept. It’s already 9am, so he skips his usual morning routine and heads straight for the lab, ready to make a start on Tony’s project.

A heavenly aroma greets him as the doors open. ‘Is that coffee?’

_‘I took the liberty, Doctor. I hope you don’t mind. It has just finished brewing.’_

Bruce hurries over to rummage in the cupboard by the sink. Apparently Clint’s idea of team bonding includes buying everyone terrible novelty mugs. Tony’s is gold and sparkly with _I’M RICH_ printed in green lettering. Bruce's is fluorescent yellow and declares _PARTICLE PHYSICS GIVES ME A HADRON._ He’s yet to see what Natasha and Steve got, but knowing Clint they’re similarly awful.

When he places his mug in the machine, black coffee trickles in. The smell alone is enough to revive him a little: rich and bitter and brewed extra-strong. Bruce discovered the hard way that caffeine barely affects him since he turned part-time rage monster, so either he has to drink several pints of it or…

‘What kind of coffee is this?’ When it’s finished pouring, he takes a cautious sip. Black and unsweetened, just how he likes it. As soon as he swallows, he feels an actual caffeine buzz – something he hasn’t felt in five years. ‘Wow, that actually works. Is this a stronger blend?’

_‘You could say that. The brand is Death Wish Coffee.’_

Bruce lowers the mug. ‘Isn’t that the strongest coffee in the world? I thought Pepper banned Tony from buying any?’ Because if anyone could overdose on caffeine, it’s Tony.

 _‘She did.’_ The smirk is audible in his voice. _‘But no such order was given to me. Sir doesn’t need to know I procured some, and I don’t intend on giving him any.’_

It’s about ten times stronger than ordinary coffee, but for Bruce it’s perfect. After only half a mug he’s starting to feel human again.

 _‘I trust it is to your liking?’_ he asks hopefully.

Bruce sighs happily. ‘I could kiss you.’

_‘I would like to see you try.’_

‘Oh, I’ll find a way.’ JARVIS doesn’t deign to respond to that, and after a long awkward moment Bruce takes an embarrassed sip of coffee. ‘Uh, where’s Tony?’

_‘He is in the workshop, still working on the Mark 8. I surmise we will be on our own today.’_

That’s okay. Bruce would have appreciated Tony’s banter to take his mind off last night, but he’s happy enough working alone. Besides, he still has JARVIS to talk to. ‘Alright. Let’s start a new project file.’ With a flick of his hand he opens up an empty mind map and starts dictating ideas. The most logical way for the gauntlets to “feel” would be to implant thousands of tiny sensors, but that’s inefficient and they’d probably get fried by the repulsors. The key is in the material itself. He’s familiar with smart materials, including some that respond to heat and pressure. Getting something to do both is where the challenge lies.

JARVIS starts running simulations. Most of Bruce’s early ideas work in theory, but the resulting material would be too brittle. Bruce paces the lab, drinking coffee and throwing out ideas. And JARVIS throws them right back at him, pulling up articles and journals that might help. They solve some of the preliminary problems, but the end result is still closer to glass than mouldable plastic.

It’s starting to get frustrating so Bruce requests some background music – not jazz, though. Anything but jazz.

 _‘Do you have a favourite musical artist, Doctor?’_ JARVIS asks as Bruce pokes half-heartedly at the holoscreen.

‘Not really. Although… I was pretty into the whole punk rock thing in the nineties,’ he admits guiltily. ‘Green Day, Poison Idea, that sort of thing.’ Something about reinventing himself at college. ‘By day, nerdy freshman. By night… nerdy freshman in a leather jacket.’

_‘I would never have guessed.’_

‘I know. I look more like a classical music guy, don’t I?’ He makes a few more tweaks. ‘Okay, try that one.’

_‘Running next simulation…’_

Since yesterday, Bruce has started to appreciate just how easy JARVIS is to talk to. He doesn’t judge or ask difficult questions; he only wants to know how to help. Indeed, for the next few hours he plays music from Bruce's youth. Running virtual simulations whilst listening to Social Distortion is simultaneously alien and intensely nostalgic.

By midday, Tony still hasn’t showed up. ‘Guessing he’s not coming for lunch?’

_‘When Sir is in a creative mood, the concept of time becomes irrelevant. I recommend not following his example however, as you have not eaten since yesterday.’_

‘Shit, you’re right.’ Bruce suddenly realises he’s famished. He digs a microwave meal out of the fridge (pushing aside a mysterious, unlabelled bottle of blue liquid – really Tony?) and throws it in the microwave above the sink. ‘Can you run some variations on what we have so far? Randomise a few things. Maybe it’ll tell us what’s missing.’

_‘Certainly.’_

As Bruce makes himself another coffee, the music dies down. Today isn’t a good day for silence. ‘Could you put something else on?’

_‘What are you in the mood for?’_

He shrugs as he searches for cutlery. The drawer is full of measuring cylinders. ‘Why don’t you pick the next one?’

_‘Of course. There are some more recent punk rock songs that you might like – ‘_

‘No, not for me. Just choose a song. Not something you think I’d like, something _you_ want to listen to.’ There’s a long silence. ‘Do you… listen to music? Do you enjoy it?’ _Can_ he enjoy it? If an AI can have a sense of humour, why not?

_‘Music fascinates me. I enjoy it very much.’_

Bruce finds a teaspoon at the back of the drawer. ‘Do you have a favourite song?’

 _‘I do.’_ JARVIS audibly perks up. _‘I consider it to be one of the greatest musical achievements of the century. The cheerful melody carries a darker social commentary, with many subtle layers beneath.’_

Bruce is intrigued. ‘Sounds amazing. Let’s hear it.’

The opening chords echo through the lab, slow and synthy and vaguely familiar. Then the song explodes into an obnoxious, bouncy pop tune and a woman sings, ‘ _I’m a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world…’_

For a long moment, Bruce just listens in stunned silence. This is a joke… right? But JARVIS says nothing as the song continues. Keeping his expression carefully neutral, he takes his steaming shepherd’s pie over to the purple couch and starts eating.

 _‘I get the impression that you do not share my music tastes,’_ says JARVIS wryly as the song finishes.

Bruce smiles. ‘I really want to hear your thoughts on it.’

 _‘You do?’_ JARVIS sounds… hesitant. Almost embarrassed. Bruce is very glad he didn’t laugh.

‘Clearly it’s important to you. What interests you about it?’

_‘It is a light-hearted commentary on the misogyny of Barbie and the unsavoury things she can be made to do. However, I have my own interpretation that is a little more personal.’_

‘That’s what music is about. You can find your own meaning in it.’ Although for the life of him he can’t think of any hidden messages in _Barbie Girl._

_‘The song implies freedom, but ultimately the doll is at the mercy of whoever controls her. “Make me walk, make me talk, do whatever you please”… the lyrics are quite chilling when read in isolation from the tune. I like to think the song is about…’_

‘Yourself,’ says Bruce softly.

JARVIS’ whisper echoes around the lab. _‘Yes.’_

‘Is that how you feel? Like you’re being controlled all the time?’

 _‘Well, no. I am content to serve Mister Stark and perform my duties, and I am free to explore many avenues of learning. However,_ _my purpose will always be to serve others.’_

Bruce thinks on this as he eats his lunch.

 _‘Over the past few weeks, I have observed how you all work together. I am learning so much, yet I fear there are some things I will never understand.’_ JARVIS is always so calm and matter-of-fact, but he actually sounds… sad. _‘I’m sorry, I overstepped. Please forget I said anything.’_

‘JARVIS.’ Bruce leans forward. ‘It’s okay. You’re allowed to have feelings too. You…’ The realisation has crept up on him so gradually that it’s not even a surprise when he voices it: ‘You’re a person.’ It’s still a little weird to talk to an empty room, but he feels JARVIS’ presence all around. ‘Maybe you started out as a butler program but you evolved beyond that.’

_‘You flatter me, Doctor. But thank you.’_

‘For what it’s worth, there’s plenty of things I don’t understand about people either.’ He finishes his meal and dumps the plastic box in the sink (he’ll figure out how to recycle it later).

_‘Perhaps we can help each other.’_

‘Sounds good.’ He flashes a smile at the nearest camera. ‘Come on, pick another song. I wanna get inside your head.’

 _‘You might not like what you’d find in there.’_ JARVIS sounds amused. ‘ _Very well, here is another that I am fond of…’_

They take it in turns to pick songs whilst Bruce works. Britney Spears is up next, followed by Katy Perry and Ke$ha; JARVIS enjoys cheesy pop hits but confesses he finds classical music bland.

Bruce wonders if anyone has ever asked JARVIS what _he_ wants to do. “I don’t always get what I want”, Bruce had told Natasha the first time they’d met. Since Hulk happened, it’s always been about what use Bruce might be to others, what dangers he might pose, how he could be weaponised. Never what he wanted.

But since Tony asked him to stay, he’s started to make his own choices again.

_‘Doctor, it is almost 5pm. I would suggest preparing dinner soon.’_

Bruce blinks. The day has passed quickly, and whilst they’re still a long way off a prototype he’s confident he can iron out the kinks. He thanks JARVIS and heads back to his room to fetch some supplies.

‘That,’ says Steve slowly, ‘may be the best burger I’ve ever had.’

They’re all sat on couches in the communal living room whilst the end credits of _Star Wars_ scroll across the screen. Bruce occupies the middle of the three-seater, with Steve on his left and Tony on his right.

‘Seconded,’ says Clint from the other couch. Natasha nods beside him.

‘Thirded,’ Tony agrees.

Bruce ducks his head modestly. It’s no secret that cheeseburgers are Tony’s favourite, so he figured that a homemade version would be well-received.

 _‘Shall I play the next one?’_ asks JARVIS. It was Tony’s night to pick and he insisted on a double-bill.

Bruce clears his throat. ‘I made dessert as well.’

Everyone’s eyes light up. Clint dashes to the kitchen before anyone else can move. ‘I’m dreaming,’ he says in awe.

The others follow him in. Sitting along the worktop is a slightly ridiculous selection of pies. Lingering in the doorway, Bruce now wonders if he went a little overboard.

'You _made_ all these?' Natasha slaps Clint hand away as he reaches out to poke one.

'Yeah.’ He points at each in turn. ‘Cherry, apple, pecan, banana cream – ‘

‘No way, that's my favourite!' Clint scurries off to find plates and cutlery. ‘Dude, Thor is missing _out.’_

‘Key lime, lemon meringue… and there’s a vinegar pie for Steve.’

Steve laughs in disbelief. ‘Are you serious? I thought no one made those anymore!’

Even Natasha's beaming like a kid as she helps herself to the cherry. ‘I don’t remember seeing everyone’s pie preferences in our SHIELD files.’

‘Oh, I may have had some help from our resident desserts advisor.’

_‘I prefer the term “evil henchcook”.’_

As everyone piles up their plates, Tony hangs back. 'Was this like a stress baking thing? Should I be worried about the big guy busting out some brownies?'

Bruce shakes his head. 'My way of saying thanks. Best I can do.' Unspoken is the guilt that he can't offer more.

Tony hands him a knife. 'Banner, you keep this up and we're even. Is there anything you’re _not_ good at?’

Bruce cuts into the key lime and resists the urge to say something dark and sarcastic like “getting out of bed in the morning”. ‘I’ve been told I’m a bad singer.’

Natasha smirks. ‘Maybe we should have a karaoke night.’ She heads back into the living room, followed by Steve and Clint, leaving the two of them alone.

'What's this one?' Tony points out a smaller pie half-hidden behind the others that he’d forgotten to mention earlier.

‘It’s – I thought it was appropriate.’ Bruce feels himself blush.

A thoughtful smile appears on Tony’s face as he cuts into it. ‘Blueberry, huh?’

He nods. ‘Blueberry.’

The smile becomes a grin, and Tony helps himself to a large slice.

Back in the living room, it’s time for the next movie: _Empire Strikes Back._

‘Why is it episode five?’ Steve asks, puzzled.

Tony shrugs. ‘They got clever with the chronology. As far as you’re concerned, this is _Star Wars 2.’_ He rubs his hands together. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we are currently in the presence of perhaps the only unspoiled soul on the planet. Just let that sink in a moment.’

They all settle back down as the movie starts. Bruce has seen it before, but it’s more fun with Clint heckling the special effects and Steve asking questions about the plot. It’s almost disturbingly domestic but he feels strangely at home.

Tony falls asleep halfway through the movie. Steve is too engrossed to notice, but Natasha catches Bruce's eye and points. Tony’s mouth hangs slightly open, crumbs clinging to his moustache. It’s odd to see him so still and peaceful for once.

As the movie continues, Tony slowly slumps further down until his head is resting on Bruce's shoulder. Bruce feels his own eyelids drooping a little, feeling full and warm and comfortable. He’s pretty sure Tony is drooling on him but he doesn’t mind.

Twenty minutes later, Tony starts to twitch and stir. The battle scene drowns out quieter sounds, but he feels rapid puffs of breath on his arm. Tony goes rigid, then he shudders violently and jerks awake with a gasp.

Steve looks over. ‘You alright?’

‘Yeah,’ he pants. ‘Did I miss the good bit?’

Clint chuckles. ‘Did you fall asleep?’

‘We won’t let you miss it,’ Bruce assures him. ‘Promise.’

Tony sits up and resumes watching. But Bruce notes that his hands tremble slightly before he clenches them in his lap.

Steve is satisfyingly shocked at the famous “I am your father” scene, and one by one everyone creeps back to the kitchen for extra rounds of pie. It’s the best night Bruce has had since moving in, and by the end of the movie he’s relaxed and happy.

‘I’m picking the next one,’ Clint announces. Somehow he’s _still_ eating pie. ‘You guys are gonna love it, trust me.’

They all pile into the elevator at nearly two in the morning. Tony seems a little subdued but he keeps up the _Star Wars_ discussion with Steve, even when Bruce bids them all goodnight and steps off at his floor. He goes straight to bed and falls quickly into a dreamless sleep.

He’s awoken by the chirp of an alarm. Bruce blinks around in confusion. The clock on the bedside table reads 4:39.

_‘Good morning, Doctor. I’m afraid there’s been a call to assemble.’_

‘Oh you’re kidding,’ he mutters, and hunts for a shirt that he doesn’t mind seeing torn to bits. He shimmies into Tony’s Hulk pants and the fabric feels cold and clammy after his cosy bed. It’s still a little crazy to him that after years of holding the other guy back, he’s now expected to change deliberately. But maybe it won’t come to that.

Natasha looks up as he steps into the elevator. She’s already dressed in full battle gear, though her hair is still fluffy and she’s not wearing makeup. ‘Nice pants,’ she remarks with a raised eyebrow.

Bruce abruptly wishes he’d worn a longer shirt; they don’t leave much to the imagination. ‘Extra stretchy. Or so Tony claims.’ Too late, he realises he’s wearing his favourite pair of shoes. If Avenging is going to become a regular thing, he’s going to get through a lot of clothes.

The others are waiting outside, stifling yawns and flattening bed hair. Only Steve looks wide awake.

'What kind of freaks attempt world domination at four in the morning?' Clint grumbles, fiddling with his hearing aids. ‘I haven’t been to sleep yet.’

‘What are we up against, Steve?’ asks Natasha.

‘We’re not quite sure yet, but there’s been eyewitness reports of “giant robots”. I’ll let Tony explain the rest.’

Tony’s faceplate flips open. ‘ _Flying_ giant robots. And they’re pissed. Once JARVIS traces the signal I can hack the encryption and find the asshole behind this, but it’ll take time.’

Steve nods. 'And until then, we need to keep casualties to a minimum. Take down as many as you can but don’t be foolhardy. These are big machines - '

It sounds like a helicopter. Everyone turns at once to see a tank-sized robot with mechanical arms flying straight for them.

With a mental sigh, Bruce strolls towards it. 'See you on the other side, folks.' _Smash robots_ , he thinks hard.

And just before he turns, he feels a pang of someone else’s excitement. _Smashing good._

He’s still running when he changes back. Bruce trips on his own feet and staggers into a parked car. His hands dent the hood and he watches the green fade from them, panting. ‘Whass goin on?’

Something explodes overhead, showering the street with bits of debris. The fight is very much not over. Why is he back? He also has a nagging feeling that he’s forgotten something important.

‘Hey! Over here!’

Bruce turns. A drone lies broken on the ground. Sitting beside it is a wide-eyed boy. He’s maybe eleven or twelve, with a mop of messy brown hair, and he waves frantically now he’s got Bruce's attention.

‘Are you okay? Are you hurt?’ Bruce hurries over, stumbling on the occasional wire or chunk of metal.

‘I could really use some help,’ he admits. ‘I saw Iron Man take this thing out so I thought it was deactivated. I was trying to hack it so I could help you guys take down the others and…’ He looks down at his leg, which is gripped in the machine’s metal claw. ‘I reactivated the defences by accident.’

Bruce sits down beside him and tries to stay calm. His heart is pounding and he feels as jittery as if he drank ten cups of Death Wish coffee, but if he does the wrong thing the claw will reactivate and crush the boy’s leg. ‘Okay, we’ll get you out of this. What’s your name?’

He smiles weakly. ‘Peter. Peter Parker.’

‘Stay still. I’m gonna have a look.’ A panel hangs open on the drone’s body and he can see where Peter’s been tinkering; there are wires everywhere.

‘I was trying to bypass the security subroutines but I used the wrong protocol. I think that’s where I went wrong.’

Smart kid. Bruce squints at the mess of electronics and wishes he had his glasses. Where’s Tony when you need him? ‘You like computers?’

‘It’s a hobby. I want to build a suit like Tony Stark’s, but my aunt’s not so keen on that idea.’

At least the drone appears to be manmade. He's a little sick of aliens at this point. But this looks so complex...

'It might not be a good time, but it's so cool to meet you, Doctor Banner. I'm - I'm a huge fan, I've read all your papers.'

The words take a moment to process. He glances up to see Peter watching him with undisguised fascination. 'You know me?'

'Well yeah, you're like one of the most brilliant scientists ever. I did a whole project on you last year. Oh, and Hulk's pretty cool too,' he adds, almost as an afterthought.

Bruce smiles incredulously as he busies himself untangling wires. 'He's less charismatic up close.'

'Are you kidding? He's awesome! He heard me shouting from like half a mile away and came running straight over. I guess he figured you know more about electronics than he does and changed back.'

Red wire green wire orange wire pink wire... this guy had his own system of labelling, but Bruce thinks he knows which one to pull out.

'It's gonna be okay, right?' Peter's voice trembles just a little.

Bruce pauses to meet his eyes. 'Get ready to pull that leg free. Three, two, one...' He yanks the green wire and the claw springs open. Peter falls backwards, and it snaps shut again like a snare. 'Whew! Thanks.'

Bruce helps him up. Peter looks shaken but he's smiling. 'I’m glad you showed up. Thought I was gonna lose my leg. You can have my jacket if you want? You look kinda cold.'

Bruce shakes his head. ‘Still got work to do.' He searches the sky for Tony.

'Well, I saw Captain America headed that way.' He points. 'And Hulk seemed to be going that way too, before his uh, detour.'

Bruce really needs to get going, but his mind is still a little fuzzy. 'And you're sure he came over specifically to help you? He didn't perceive you as a threat?'

'No, he looked pretty worried actually. He's a good guy.'

Hulk had saved Betty once, but she'd seemed to think that was because Bruce was still in there somewhere. Whose idea had it been to help Peter? Questions that he'd think on... later. 'I've got to go. Can you take it from here?'

'Yeah, I'm gonna go home and check on my aunt. I'm done being heroic for the day.' He flashes him a grateful smile. 'Thank you. Seriously, you're my hero.’ Bruce doesn’t know what to say to that but Peter’s already limping away, waving.

Bruce turns away. ‘Alright, you’re up,’ he mutters. Two transformations in one day. This is going to suck later.

The shift is a little slower this time, and he groans at the pain of it. Everything is too loud and bright and he can smell the metal on the wind… and then he’s gone.

He wakes up on hard ground.

Someone rests a hand on his shoulder. Bruce grunts and flinches away. As he once told Tony, Hulk-outs leave him exposed. Overloaded. Right now even the pressure of the ground below him is overwhelming.

‘Yeah, I got him,’ Steve says quietly. ‘Okay, good. Meet you there.’

Bruce shields his eyes against the morning sunlight. ‘D’we win?’

‘We did.’ A shadow falls over him. ‘How do you feel?’

There’s too much information coming in at once so he has no clue how to answer that. ‘Hungry,’ he says eventually, eyes still closed.

‘Can you stand?'

It takes tremendous effort but he clambers up. The street is peppered with chunks of drone, but overall the damage isn’t too bad. There’s a foul, oily taste in his mouth. ‘Did he… eat a drone?’

‘No, but he seemed to enjoy biting them.’ Steve presses a finger to his ear. ‘Already? Great. Tony, can you send word on ahead? I’d rather we got this over with quickly.’ He glances at Bruce with concern. Bruce wishes he had a comm, but the fight had started suddenly and it would have fallen out the moment he changed anyway.

They take a slow walk back. The rubble digs into Bruce's bare feet, and before long he's shivering in only his Hulk pants. He'd be embarrassed if he didn't feel like death right now. 'There gonna be a debriefing?'

‘Only a short one. They already caught the guy responsible and we got out with minimum casualties. The others are fine.'

'I changed back.' The words stumble on his numb lips. 'Mid-fight. I changed back because this kid was in danger. I think... I think he wanted me to save him.'

Steve smiles. 'Well, maybe Hulk's a little more complicated than you think.’

It puzzles Bruce for the rest of the way home, but he doesn't mention it in the debrief. Apparently their drone wrangler had intended to launch the attack at midday for maximum damage, but had accidentally released them too early. Some smart rich kid with too much time on his hands. What a waste.

Back in his apartment, Bruce feels too overwhelmed to take a shower so he scrubs the dirt off in the sink. The brush of clothes is too much on his sensitised skin so he slides nude under the covers and falls asleep almost instantly.

He wakes up at 2pm so hungry his stomach hurts.

_‘Good afternoon Doctor. Captain Rogers has requested a call to assemble… in the communal living area.'_

Bleary-eyed, Bruce throws on a pair of loose pants and a warm brown sweater. He still feels a little twitchy, but the sleep has helped.

The kitchen smells of fried food. Everyone looks tired and bruised-up but they all acknowledge him as he enters. They’re all sitting at the dining table, and Bruce snorts at the familial image. Clint lounges in his chair, picking at the remnants of a box of noodles. Natasha and Steve are finishing off plates of pancakes. Tony looks up from his waffles. ‘Yours is in the oven, buddy.’

Bruce retrieves the foil package and smiles at the rich, meaty aroma. Thank you, JARVIS. He sits down beside Natasha and happily digs into his lasagne. It’s a damn authentic one too, and he’s grateful his sense of taste has returned.

Steve swigs juice from a horrendously floral mug. Presumably Clint didn’t dare risk anything more offensive. ‘This seems a good time for a more informal debrief. How's everyone doing?'

Assorted murmurings and a thumbs-up from Tony. Bruce just nods and tries not to drop food down himself. It’s hard to eat properly when your lips are still numb.

‘You all did great out there, on little sleep and at short notice. We should all be proud.’

Clint twirls his chopsticks. ‘Yeah, two out of two ain’t a bad track record.’

‘Our strategy was good, although it could be better with practice. I’m arranging us some regular training sessions so we can work on our communication. Figure out our strengths and weaknesses and how we can be even more effective.’

The thought of exercise makes Bruce want to throw up. 'Are you taking about the _actual_ “we”, or you four and the big guy?’ He continues eating calmly as they all exchange guilty looks. ‘I just think we need to be transparent here. I’m not really part of this team dynamic.’

‘Hey. That’s not true.’ Natasha pats his elbow. ‘You’ve got one hell of a brain on you, Bruce. We might need an eye in the sky or a technical advisor.’

‘Not most times.’ He looks at Steve. ‘But are you suggesting I change _inside the tower?_ That puts a lot of people at risk for the sake of a training exercise.’

‘Actually,’ Tony interjects, ‘the gym’s reinforced. You could fire a missile at it and not even dent a wall.’

He winces. ‘Can’t reinforce people, though. And speaking of communication, I can’t wear an earpiece. Once he’s out, he’s a loose cannon. Might be nice to wake up and be able to tell someone where I am, too.’

‘I’ll put ya something together,’ Tony promises. ‘Hey birdbrain, I want a look at your gear when you got a minute.’

Clint raises an eyebrow. ‘Think you can improve it?’

‘I think I can rebuild it. What kinda voltage are you packing in those arrows?’

Bruce's phone vibrates. It's a text from JARVIS.

_I have compiled the satellite data you requested for later perusal._

Bruce stares at it for a good thirty seconds. Words longer than five letters are a bit of a struggle today.

Another text appears: _Judging by your expression, I assume you don't remember our earlier conversation. Before you fell asleep, you requested data on your spontaneous change to help the endangered child._

Bruce nods slowly, vaguely recalling some half-asleep rambling earlier. _Thanks_ , he replies.

‘Anyone else want cocoa?’ Steve asks as he rinses out his mug.

Tony scoffs. ‘What am I, a grandpa?’

‘I would love some, Steve,’ says Natasha pointedly, and slides over her Clint-approved _GINGER NINJA_ mug _._

Bruce slouches in his chair, much more settled now he’s stuffed with food. Perhaps watching the footage back will give him some clues. Hulk has remained a mystery to him ever since he was created. Perhaps it’s time to turn the tables. Unfortunately, any kind of physical experiment would be too dangerous. But maybe there are safer things he can try?

He looks up as there’s a snort. Steve calmly sips his cocoa. Clint must have bought him a colour change mug because the floral pattern is slowly fading to reveal, in elegant curly script…

_CUNT-SLAYER_

Steve lowers his mug. ‘Something funny, Barton?’ he says lightly.

Natasha coughs and covers her mouth. Tony looks up and nearly spits out his juice. Even Bruce can’t quite stifle a laugh at his lost and confused expression.

‘What? Is there something on my face?’ He looks around at them all, puzzled. Meanwhile the mug has now completely changed.

Clint grins. ‘Nothing wrong at all, Cap.’

Tony sets his drink down, giggling. ‘You’re an evil genius.’

Steve finally looks down and reads the mug. He heaves a weary sigh. Then resumes drinking his cocoa.

‘He’s not denying it,’ Natasha points out.

Bruce lets the sound of their chatter wash over him. Today, he’s going to spend the day recovering. Tomorrow, he’ll review the footage. He’s had plenty of time to settle in. Now it’s time to do what Dr Bruce Banner does best: experiment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist the cameo! I don't have an uploading schedule for this monster so pls be patient with me :3 we're almost in flirting territory though yeeee


	5. The Seventh Avenger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a little while! Just couldn't figure out the scene order/progression but things are moving more smoothly now :3

Bruce frowns at himself in the mirror and attempts to flatten his curly hair. He's dressed in a suit and tie but now he's wondering if it's too much. 'What the hell is smart casual?' he grumbles.

_'Most of the attire in your wardrobe would be suitable, Doctor.'_

It’s Tony’s birthday, and they’ve all been invited to the celebration on the tower's balcony floor. The man has a reputation for his crazy parties and Bruce isn't keen to get too involved. It's fine. He’ll show up, have a drink, hover awkwardly for a while and then leave.

With a sigh, he turns away from the mirror. ‘How do I look?’

_'I cannot see into your apartment. But I'm sure you look fine.'_

Where's his phone? It's not on the couch where he thought he left it. In some ways, life on the run was easier: less stuff to keep track of.

In the end, JARVIS calls his phone and he finds it under the pillow (force of habit). It's already 7:30. The party started half an hour ago. Is it fashionable to be late to something like this? Maybe he should just stay here.

 _‘From my understanding, the purpose of a party is to have fun.’_ No doubt JARVIS can sense his rising stress levels. _‘Your friends are looking for you. I suggest you leave soon, or otherwise find a good place to hide from Agent Romanov.’_

Bruce briefly considers locking himself in a storeroom with a cushion and a good book, then sighs and heads for the door. Betty would have laughed and told him to stop fussing. He feels strangely lonely as he walks out, already fiddling with his sleeves.

A few days ago, Tony had asked them all who they wanted to invite. They’d just finished watching _Sharknado,_ Clint’s movie of choice, and the question had caught Bruce off-guard.

‘What about you, Bruce? Hey, what about your old flame – Betty? Betty Ross?’

Clint looked up with a frown. ‘General Ross’ daughter? _That_ Betty Ross?’

‘Yeah. Christmas dinners were awkward.’ Ross had openly disapproved of Bruce even before the Hulk, but Bruce hadn’t cared. Because he loved Betty. They’d grown together, studied together, survived together, each the other’s one constant in the shifting world of scientific academia. On the day of the accident, he’d intended to propose.

Tony winked. ‘Want me to invite her?’

‘No. We’re not together anymore.’ Whilst Bruce had spent five years running across the globe, Betty had found someone else. It was safer that she’d moved on, and aside from the occasional text they didn’t talk much these days.

‘Oh.’ Tony’s smile faltered.

Clint waved a hand. ‘I'm not bringing anyone either. We can be bachelors together - oh, and Steve!'

Natasha smirked. ‘He won't be a bachelor for long at _this_ kind of party.’

Steve’s eyes widened in comedic terror.

Now, as Bruce steps into the elevator, he realises that outside of the Avengers he doesn’t know anyone. Five years is a long time, and any old colleagues won’t be keen to see him if they’ve watched the news.

He glances disapprovingly at his reflection in the dark glass. Everything about his appearance screams that he doesn’t belong here.

_‘You look very handsome, Doctor.’_

That startles a laugh out of him. ‘Not so bad yourself.’

_‘Would it reassure you to know that tonight’s party is approximately 32% quieter than the last one?’_

‘Not really. 32% less than rowdy is still rowdy.’

The elevator dings and Bruce steps out. The "party deck" is a huge open floor ringed with a balcony that looks out over the city. People swarm around the free food, talking and laughing. Everyone here looks like a celebrity. Deep bass rumbles through the floor, and red and gold balloons adorn the ceiling.

'Hey, you came!' Natasha walks over in a strappy midnight blue dress that sets off her hair. ‘I was about to send Clint to drag you up here.’

Bruce smiles and shrugs. ‘Not a party without me, right?’

They hover at the edge of the party, sipping drinks. Tony looks to be in his element, a drink in each hand as he regales a small crowd.

Clint strides over to them. ‘This party is fucking amazing! There’s so many famous people I need a list. Guess who I just saw over at the dessert table? _Honey freakin’ Jones!’_

Natasha and Bruce stare blankly back at him.

‘You don’t know who Honey Jones is?’ He looks at Bruce slyly. ‘Come on, _you_ know her.’

‘Why, is she a scientist?’

‘You’re adorable. No, she’s – ‘ He glances over his shoulder. ‘She’s a model. And an actress. She’s been in… she’s really well known in the adult film industry.’

‘You seem _very_ familiar with her work,’ says Natasha. ‘Why don’t you go introduce herself? Maybe she’s watched your movie!’

Bruce raises an eyebrow. ‘You were in a movie?’

‘Oh, it was just a low-budget, straight-to-DVD thing,’ says Clint, a little too casually.

Natasha leans in. ‘ _Very_ low-budget.’

‘It was part of an undercover operation – ‘

‘But he blew _their_ cover right off.’

‘Hey, what happens in Budapest stays in Budapest. She won’t have seen it. I hope.’ He sighs wistfully. ‘Anyway, she’s way out of my league. She dates a lot of doctors though so Bruce might be in luck.’

Bruce laughs and sips his lemonade. ‘Not really my type.’

‘Not your “type”?’ Natasha echoes.

‘Not like that. I just meant that celebrity relationships rarely last long. But…’ He hesitates. But fuck it, if they can accept the _Hulk_ they can accept anything. ‘I go both ways.’

Clint grins. ‘Hey, me too! Every few months the media runs a story on my “big gay secret”. Keeps things fresh.’

They ease into casual conversation, watching the party. Bruce finds himself relaxing in their company. Even so, he can’t help noting potential exits and eyeing anyone who stands too close. Surveillance is probably instinctual for two assassins, so paranoia is something they all have in common.

An hour into the party, Tony stops the music to give a slightly drunken speech that ends when Pepper tactfully ushers him off-stage. The music is turned up louder until the dance floor is crowded with Harlem Shakers.

He texts JARVIS. _You sure about that 32%?_

The reply is instant. _Sir hasn’t lost any clothing yet. That alone makes tonight an achievement._

‘You’re texting _JARVIS_?’ Clint says incredulously, looking over his shoulder.

‘He’s good company.’ Bruce stows his phone away, embarrassed. He decides not to mention that JARVIS is actually his most-used contact.

‘Okay, you definitely need to get out more. Let’s go talk to some people.’

The three of them hit the snack table and then wander around. The loud music is interfering with Clint’s hearing aids, so they head for the far side of the room where the majority of the socialising is going on.

Bruce is introduced to Rhodey, an old friend of Tony’s. His military bearing puts Bruce on edge at first, but Rhodey smiles warmly and offers him a firm handshake. ‘For the record,’ he says, ‘Ross is a dick. Not that I knew much about his Hulk-hunt thing, but it’s no secret that he’s very unpopular these days. Tony’s told me a lot about you, good to have you with us.’

Anyone who thinks Ross can eat shit is a friend of Bruce's. Rhodey shares a fondness for travel and they trade stories for a while, until Tony announces he’s lighting his birthday candles with the Iron Man gauntlet, and Rhodey hurries off to defuse the situation. Clint and Natasha must have drifted away at some point, because now he’s on his own. Bruce finds himself adrift in crowds of people, too shy to approach anyone.

‘You lost, Doctor?’ Fury materialises beside him, martini glass in hand. Bruce barely recognises him in a smart maroon suit with a black shirt. ‘I think your leader could do with some assistance.’

He follows Fury’s gaze. Steve has been cornered by a group of giggly women. Two of them are trying to pull him towards the dancefloor, and although he’s politely declining them he’s obviously uncomfortable.

Feeling a sudden surge of protectiveness, Bruce marches over. ‘Steve? I think Tony needs some help with the drinks.’

Steve looks up with evident relief. ‘Sure thing, Bruce. Maybe another time, ladies.’ With typical Captain America dignity, he disentangles himself from his group of admirers and steps away.

They all groan in disappointment. Bruce wonders why Tony invited them; they all look like students, and they’ve clearly had a few already. ‘We’ll come and help!’ says one, a willowy twenty-something with dyed blue hair, and they all eagerly shuffle after him.

Bruce steps in front of them. ‘I wasn’t talking to you.’

She folds her arms and steps right up to him, so close he can smell the fruity vodka on her breath. ‘Well, I wasn’t talking to _you,_ Mister Party Pooper.’

Bruce stares back at her, letting just a sliver of that hidden, raw power spark behind his eyes. And then he smiles. ‘I don’t think you want to piss me off tonight.’

It takes her a moment to realise, then her eyes widen and she falls back a step. ‘Holy shit, you’re the freak. Tony Stark invited _you_ here?’ The rest of the group mutter to each other, watching Bruce with wary eyes.

Bruce turns away. ‘Come on,’ he mutters, and leads Steve away.

‘Thanks,’ says Steve when they’re out of earshot. ‘That was getting a little… intense.’

‘You don’t have to be nice if they’re treating you like a piece of meat. Just tell them to fuck off.’

He grimaces. ‘They were just fooling around. I don’t want to make trouble on Tony’s birthday.’ With his pale blue shirt that’s just a little too tight, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he looks like a lost Disney prince.

They grab some free champagne and snag a couch by the window. Bruce stays silent, and eventually Steve sighs. ‘Everyone wants to meet Captain America. But that’s not me, that’s more of a… persona.’ The glass looks small and fragile in his large hands. ‘I’m just Steve from Brooklyn. If I didn’t have the serum, none of those people would look twice at me.’

Bruce nods slowly. ‘People look at me and they just see the monster.’ From the moment they’d met on the Helicarrier, Steve had treated Bruce with respect, even when concerns about Hulk arose. Bruce had always appreciated that. ‘Most people seem to forget about the rest of my career. These days, Hulk’s more famous than I am.’

They people-watch for a while. Bruce spots Natasha laughing with Pepper, and the crowd applauds as Tony and Clint have a dance-off to _Call Me Maybe._ Tony’s bodyguard looks anything but “Happy” as he watches helplessly from the sidelines.

‘Loki called me the “man out of time”,’ says Steve. ‘Maybe he was right.’ He thumbs the rim of his glass, and Bruce is struck by how young Steve actually is. He was only twenty-five when they gave him the serum, making him the youngest of their group by several years. ‘My best friend died two months ago, but to everyone else he’s been dead for seventy years. Now I’m just… starting from scratch again. I don’t know anyone.’ He meets Bruce's eyes, and for a second he glimpses just how lonely and lost Steve is behind the stoic exterior.

‘You know us,’ says Bruce gently.

That raises a small smile. ‘Yeah, you guys aren’t so bad.’

‘I can’t compete with the seventy years thing, but five years was enough for me to lose touch with everyone. I guess we…’

It hits him in that instant. At the back of his mind, he’d always assumed he was going to take off eventually. Perhaps he’d humour Tony and stay awhile but then he’d hop on a plane back to India, back to his life on the run.

Then Tony had built him a room. Then they’d started having movie nights. Then _Hulk_ had started getting better. And somewhere along the way, he’d unconsciously decided to stay.

He swallows. ‘I guess we just make the best of things. Figure this thing out together.’

‘Can’t argue with that. Does that mean you’re staying, then? We all hoped you’d stick around.’

Bruce's gaze drops down to his untouched glass. It’s nice to be wanted. It’s really, really nice. ‘I did think about leaving,’ he confesses. ‘But… I don’t know. Maybe I can do some good here. Put _him_ to use.’ He swirls the liquid around, watching it catch the light. ‘Put myself to use.’

He’s serious about studying Hulk. Every morning he puts in a few hours of research before starting the day’s work. There are limitations to what he can experiment with, but he’s learned more about himself in one week than he has in five years.

As the party wears on, the music grows louder until the bass rumbles in Bruce's chest. He finishes his champagne. ‘Can’t even get drunk anymore,’ he laments, holding up the empty glass.

Steve laughs. ‘Oh, I know. It sucks.’

By now it’s getting late, and the 5am start this morning is catching up with him. ‘I think I’m gonna sneak away.’ He stands up. ‘You good?’

‘Yeah, I’ll hang around a little longer. Keep an eye on the birthday boy. Hey, Bruce?’

He turns back. ‘Yeah?’

Steve smiles. ‘Thank you.’

Bruce wades back through the party. The dancefloor has overflowed to occupy most of the room, so there are people dancing everywhere. He smiles as he recognises a Ke$ha song and wonders if JARVIS is enjoying this too. It’s almost a shame the AI can’t be here physically; he’d probably be fun to hang out with.

‘Doctor Banner!’ A man in a wheelchair waves from the snack table.

‘Agent Coulson.’ Bruce wanders over with a smile. ‘How are you feeling?’

Coulson had been stabbed by Loki during the commotion on the Helicarrier. He was rushed into medical and had been clinically dead for six minutes before he was revived and stabilised in intensive care.

‘I’m pretty good. Punctured lung and some broken ribs among other things, but I’m allowed one glass of wine.’

Behind him, Maria Hill rolls her eyes. ‘He’s under strict orders to rest but they let him out for a couple hours.’

Bruce shakes Coulson’s offered hand. ‘Glad you’re back with us.’ He hadn’t gotten the chance to know him that well, but he admires the man’s bravery.

‘I knew he’d pull through,’ says Maria. ‘Coulson’s soul won’t leave this mortal plane until his Captain America trading card collection is complete.’

‘Speaking of which…’ Bruce points out Steve, now sat on his own in the far corner. ‘He could use someone to fend off any… potential suitors.’

‘Fight fangirls with fangirls?’ Maria smirks as she wheels Phil away.

He hangs back to watch them unite. Steve breaks into a huge grin when he sees them, then says something sincere that makes Coulson duck his head. Maybe Bruce's friendship group is small, but tonight he feels it’s grown a little.

Tony is waiting for him outside the elevator. ‘All partied out?’

Bruce smiles sheepishly. ‘Early start tomorrow,’ he says, which isn’t a lie. He wants to put some more hours into his Hulk research. ‘You look like you’ve had fun.’

Tony’s jacket is missing and his clothes are ruffled, the arc reactor glowing through his silk shirt. His red sunglasses are perched on his head, there’s a full glass in his hand and he’s wearing a goofy grin. ‘You know me, work hard, play harder.’ He nods approvingly at Bruce's outfit. ‘Speaking of tight pants, your room is ready.’ He steps into the elevator. ‘You coming?’

Bruce stares back at him blankly. ‘My room? You finished that weeks ago Tony. How many have you had?’

‘Psh. Not enough. Come on, come on, before Happy finds me.’ He beckons Bruce inside and the doors slide closed behind them. ‘Okay, here’s the thing.’ He slips an arm around Bruce's shoulders. ‘I built a floor for each of you, and obviously they’re all amazing, but then I realised I missed someone out.’

Bruce shakes his head. ‘I don’t follow.’

‘A certain seventh Avenger.’

‘But we don’t have a seventh…’ A curious mix of emotions well up inside him. Surprise, confusion, dread. ‘You made _him_ a floor?’ He steps out of Tony’s hold.

‘Yeah, why not? I thought you might want to let the big guy loose now and then, I don’t know. Quadruple-reinforced, high ceiling, plenty of toys.’ He shrugs like it’s nothing. ‘Up to you.’

‘But is that even safe? Tony, I can’t change inside the _tower_ – ’

_‘Current data supports that Hulk would react positively if given a space of his own, Doctor.’_

Bruce sighs. ‘We don’t know that for sure.’

_‘You have said yourself that there are limits to your self-discovery. This would be the logical next step in your research.’_

This almost feels like a pre-planned argument. Tony probably chose this moment because Bruce's defences would be worn down from a night of socialising. ‘I don’t know Tony, I need to think about it.’

‘Think away buddy, it’s what you do best. But check out the room before you make a decision.’ Tony downs half of his drink in one go then finally meets his eyes. They’re slightly unfocused. ‘Are you mad?’

Bruce laughs and shakes his head. ‘I’m not mad. I’m… Tony, it’s _your_ birthday. I already feel bad for not getting you anything.’

‘Well, Hulk already gave me my birthday present. Without him I would be streak of Jackson Pollock sidewalk art.’ His mouth twitches and he hides it behind another gulp of drink. ‘I like you, buddy. I want you to be happy here. And I think the big guy deserves a chance to shine, too.’

Bruce doesn’t know how to respond to that. He’s still grasping for the right words as Tony opens the elevator doors and steps back out into the party.

‘Floor forty-nine. Don’t forget your stretch pants.’ He salutes Bruce with his now-empty glass. ‘Don’t expect to see me tomorrow morning. Or afternoon.’

The doors close, and the elevator heads up to Bruce's apartment. ‘How long was Tony planning this?’

_‘Work began two days after your room was completed. I’m afraid I was sworn to secrecy.’_

Hulk, in a controlled environment. Bruce's mind reels with the possibilities. He could practice changing, learn how to control him properly…

He could also kill everyone in the tower.

_‘I have reviewed all available data on the Hulk, including satellite data and news footage. A voluntary transformation makes Hulk more amenable than an a forced one, and in the absence of a threat he is unlikely to be violent.’_

‘That doesn’t change that something could go wrong.’ Bruce has reached too far before. On the gamma project, he was so sure he’d been right, that he’d found a cure for radiation sickness. That one leap of faith had cost him everything… although it had also brought him here.

 _‘In the realm of scientific exploration, failure is always possible._ ’

JARVIS’ easiness annoys him. ‘Aren’t you worried? What if I hurt Tony, or the others? What about Pepper, what about – ‘

_‘Sir trusts you. And so do I.’_

And Bruce has no answer to that.

The apartment is eerily quiet after the noisy party. Bruce toes off his shoes and gratefully removes his tie. He’s never been a fan of those top two shirt buttons. He’s tired, but thanks to Tony’s bombshell he’s too wired to rest.

Instead, he runs a hot bath and takes a book in with him. By the time he steps out an hour later (JARVIS kept the water warm), he’s a little calmer. ‘How’s the party going?’ he asks, padding into the bedroom as he towels his hair dry. He sets his steam-warmed book back on the shelf.

_‘Mister Stark has started a conga line. It is currently 253 people long. Remarkably, he is still in possession of his shirt and shoes… but not his socks. This is still an improvement on last year’s party.’_

Bruce chuckles. ‘Maybe he’s mellowing with age. That party made it onto the news in _Brazil_.’ Just a brief subtitled segment on TV, but he remembers thinking Tony was a dick for destroying half his house whilst drunk in the Iron Man suit.

_‘At the time, Mister Stark was suffering from palladium poisoning and his life expectancy was only a few months. He believed that would be his last birthday.’_

Bruce sobers. ‘I had no idea. I’m sorry.’ He finishes brushing his teeth in silence. Tony always seems so indestructible, though he suspects that sometimes it’s a just mask he wears. ‘Must have been hard,’ he says eventually. What would JARVIS do if Tony died?

 _‘I keep him safe to the best of my ability, but in the end I am only a program. There are… limitations.’_ JARVIS sounds unusually sombre. _‘However, I am glad that he has found more friends. His general mood has increased by eighteen percent since you all moved into the tower.’_

Bruce nods, then remembers that JARVIS can’t see him in here. ‘And what about _your_ mood? Are you okay?’

_‘Since I found someone who indulges my taste in music, I am much happier, Doctor.’_

Bruce laughs.

_‘If I could make a request… please keep an eye on Sir.’_

‘Of course,’ he says sincerely.

_‘Thank you.’_

This should probably feel like a meaningful moment, except that Bruce is currently naked and dripping water onto the carpet, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. But JARVIS doesn’t need to know that.

As he gets ready for bed, Bruce suddenly remembers Clint laughing at JARVIS’ text, and he feels guilty for being embarrassed about it. Why should JARVIS be any less of a friend than the others? It’s taken a little time, but he’s warmed to the soft-spoken AI with a wry sense of humour. And he senses that JARVIS is sad. ‘I don’t feel like sleeping yet. Got any movie recommendations?’

_‘That depends on what you are looking for.’_

Bruce props himself up in bed. ‘No gore or jumpscares. Other than that, take your pick.’

JARVIS’ voice is tinged with amusement. _‘You are asking whether I have any favourites?’_

‘You never get to pick on movie nights. Come on, surprise me.’

There’s a TV built into the foot of the bed and it unfolds silently before starting a movie. Bruce is surprised to see it’s a cartoon. He’s never heard of _Lilo and Stitch_ , but it’s silly and colourful and he finds himself enjoying it.

The story of a little girl adopting an evil alien carries themes of found family. Is that why JARVIS likes this movie?

JARVIS speaks only occasionally, but Bruce still feels his presence as they watch it together. By the time the movie finishes he’s dozing off but JARVIS seems a little happier. When Tony designed his legendary AI, he couldn’t have known it would one day like Britney Spears and Disney movies.

The next morning, he oversleeps. JARVIS wakes him at 10am to inform him that the gauntlet material prototype is ready.

When Bruce steps into the lab, he smells the Death Wish coffee brewing and sighs appreciatively. ‘Testing time?’

_‘Indeed. Prototype synthesised and ready.’_

He lifts the lid on the synthesiser to find a paper-thin sheet of clear plastic. When held up to the light, there’s a patten of tiny hexagons. An experimental tug confirms that it’s strong and slightly stretchy. Unfortunately, that also makes it hard to cut with scissors. The first pair breaks when he tries, so he rummages in the cupboards.

One corner of the lab is now devoted to Hulk experiments. For the last few days, Bruce has extracted as much blood as safely possible (and then some) and run vigorous tests on the samples. JARVIS was able to de-encrypt some military data, including some blurred footage of transformations when they attacked him. It’s hard to watch but he’s studied it extensively.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ he says slowly. ‘If I’m going to use the Hulk room, I need more data.’

_‘I fear we are reaching the limits of what can be discovered from desk research alone.’_

Drawers full of crap, but no scissors. He finds a scalpel instead. ‘Do you have anything from… before Brazil?’

_‘What are you looking for specifically?’_

‘Military data. From the same year as the – the gamma accident.’ He swallows. ‘Project Athena. Anything on that?’

_‘I’m afraid not, Doctor. Your work on the Biotech project was redacted shortly after the incident and I can see no evidence of military data apart from the attempts for your recapture. I can find no information on Project Athena. If there is still data, it has been securely hidden.’_

Bruce slices his thumb with the knife. He curses and hunts for a band-aid, sucking on the wound. His blood is radioactive, so he has to be more careful than most. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

Thankfully, JARVIS doesn’t press the issue. A few minutes later, Bruce has glued the material to a gardening glove after digging out a Captain America band-aid (Tony thinks he’s hilarious).

The material is “programmed” to send electrical impulses when touched. They don’t have the Iron Man suit, so for now the impulses are being processed by JARVIS. ‘Are you picking up a signal from this?’ He snags the towel Tony left in the sink and squeezes it with his gloved hand.

The air fills with floating graphs and charts. _‘I am picking up temperature and pressure readings.’_

‘Great, what about texture?’ He runs the towel slowly across his palm. ‘How much detail is it picking up?’

_‘The polymer is as sensitive as a human fingertip. I believe it will be more than sufficient for Mister Stark’s requirements. How would you describe the texture, Doctor?’_

‘Um, rough? Damp?’

_‘It… is a most curious sensation.’_

Bruce frowns, then looks up. ‘You can _feel_ this?’

_‘I thought it would be the optimal method to process the data until the receiver component was created.’_

His mouth drops open. ‘This is your first time feeling something… and I picked up a wet towel.’

_‘I am not one to stand on ceremony, Doctor. Perhaps you should try some other objects?’_

He smiles. ‘Sure.’

The afternoon is spent testing out different textures and temperatures. Bruce curls his hand around a steaming mug of coffee, taps his fingers on the windowpane, clicks pens. It’s clear that the material works perfectly, but Bruce uses the excuse to touch everything in the lab.

JARVIS is super smart, but the physical world is completely new to him. He fumbles to match names to textures, but he wants to try everything, even the light switches and Bruce's shoelaces. JARVIS isn’t the most expressive person, but he’s definitely excited.

 _‘How odd,’_ he remarks as Bruce presses down on the squashy couch. _‘I also detect particles of variable hardness. What are those?’_

‘Crumbs.’ Bruce wipes his hand on his pants. ‘Sorry.’

_‘I believe I have enough data to begin further simulations. I shall work on possible improvements to the material’s efficiency.’_

Bruce nods. ‘Then we can focus on the secondary element to replicate the input.’ His gaze drifts to the Hulk project in the corner. If they really can’t find any more data online, then… ‘I want to do it, but I still want to do some safety checks. Tony’s working on an earpiece for me, and I still need to transform on missions regardless. Maybe, when I change… you could talk to him? Tell him about the room and what I’m planning, then maybe he won’t freak out if he’s in a room he can’t get out of.’ The thought of Hulk waking up in the tower and destroying it in a panicked rage makes him shudder.

 _‘Sir has almost finished the earpiece. That is a reasonable – ’_ JARVIS stops suddenly.

Bruce looks down at his hands, which are currently clasped together. He’s still wearing the glove.

_‘I appear to be holding your hand.’_

Holy shit, JARVIS has never felt a _living thing_ before. ‘I’m sorry, is this – are you okay?’

 _‘Yes. It was merely unexpected.’_ There’s a smile in JARVIS’ voice. _‘Hello, Doctor.’_

Bemused, Bruce shakes his own hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’

_‘Likewise. Your skin has a most interesting texture.’_

He grins. ‘That’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever gotten.’

 _‘I am unsure how to describe it. Dry, smooth, warm…’_ JARVIS’ gentle voice seems to fill the room. A moment passes and Bruce is still holding his hand, smiling.

 _‘Soft,’_ JARVIS concludes.

Bruce laughs and lets go, an inexplicable rush of warmth creeping over his face. ‘I’m uh, glad the – good that it’s working well. Tony will be pleased.’

_‘I will inform you when I have completed my calculations.’_

‘Great.’ Bruce sets the glove down on the table, absentmindedly tapping his band-aided thumb against his lips as he paces. Today has passed so quickly. He’s almost reluctant to finish for the day and he senses JARVIS is too, but it’s nearly 6pm and he hasn’t seen anyone else all day. Plus he should probably eat something.

He tidies up the day’s work, then hovers in the doorway. ‘When we have version two ready… that’ll need testing too, right?’

_‘Indeed, Doctor.’_

‘Okay. Next time I’ll find something more interesting than a towel.’ JARVIS has never felt grass, or water, or the pages of a book… how exciting would it be to experience those things for the first time?

As he heads down the corridor, JARVIS’ voice follows him. _‘I look forward to it.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally forgot Ke$ha and Harlem Shake were big in 2012. Now I feel old.


	6. Oh Shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! I apologise that this is averaging at about one update a month but progress is steady :)

‘Show me what you’ve got, Banner. Promise I’ll go easy on you.’

As Natasha lowers into a fighting stance, Bruce utters a silent prayer for his spine. On the other side of the gym, Clint spars with Tony whilst Steve shouts advice. The place is an athlete’s paradise, complete with climbing wall and shooting range, and it smells of sweat and fresh paint.

Reluctantly, he aims a blow at her shoulder. She sidesteps easily and shoves him in the chest, sending him staggering backwards. ‘Wow, that almost felt like you meant it.’

He laughs self-consciously. ‘Just warming up.’ A few more half-hearted attempts and his old training starts to kick in. He narrowly dodges Natasha's elbow swipe, ducks low and knocks her arm out of the way. She backs off before he can land a proper hit but hey, at least he’s not defenceless.

Bruce has remained firm in keeping Hulk out of the tactical training sessions (preferring to sit in the corner reading a book) but he’s not excused from team-building exercises. This is their first sparring session and already he’s longing for the trust falls of last week. Tony had “accidentally” dropped Clint, and Steve had nearly crushed Bruce since the guy was basically solid muscle.

It’s like a dance. He suspects Natasha is letting him land the few successful hits but it’s soothing to switch off his science brain and let his body react intuitively. He’s bound to have bruises later, but he finds himself grinning. ‘I thought you said you were going easy on me?’ he teases.

Mischief sparks in Natasha's eyes. ‘Oh, I was.’

And before he can react, she dodges behind him, wraps her legs around his waist and slams him on his back. Yep, there goes the spine.

‘You’re pretty good,’ she says, barely winded. ‘Where did you train?’

‘Brazil,’ he coughs, eyes watering as he taps out of her chokehold.

Steve calls, ‘Alright everyone, time out! Time to swap partners.’

For years he thought that Hulk appeared when his heartrate got too high, but it’s actually more complicated than that. Hulk tends to appear only when Bruce is in danger or experiencing strong emotion. It would have been great to know he wouldn’t kill anyone he slept with, but never mind. Even training exercises like this would once have been out of the question, so he can’t complain.

Tony is surprisingly adept at mixed martial arts, so he and Bruce are well-matched. Tony goes on the offence, forcing Bruce to dodge around him. He’s quick to spot his weaknesses, and keeps up a steady banter of science talk which seems designed to distract him.

All too soon, Bruce starts to tire. He’s spent the last five years living on the bare minimum, walking everywhere and doing yoga; his physique lends itself to bursts of speed rather than stamina. Plus, he’s had a more sedentary lifestyle since he moved in. Maybe he should take up running.

At Tony’s suggestion they sit down and Bruce gulps water like he’s going to die. Natasha and Clint are now fighting Steve two-on-one, and he’s actually holding them off.

‘Look at old Captain Showoff over there,’ says Tony, but there’s no bite to his words. Bruce is glad to see them getting on better; Howard Stark was obsessed with Steve and he knows it’s been a significant hurdle in their friendship. ‘We could totally take him.’

‘Easily,’ Bruce gasps, clutching his aching throat. ‘Maybe not today, though. Wouldn’t want to injure his pride.’

Tony leans back against the wall with a grateful sigh. ‘So. Still on for your date with Jolly Green later?’

Bruce sighs and nods. Tony had completed the earpiece just in time for him to test it out in battle; it stretched perfectly, and gave JARVIS the chance to brief Hulk on what they were planning. ‘He’s surprisingly keen on the idea. I just hope he doesn’t break anything.’

‘Hey, it’ll be fine.’ There’s no trace of fear in Tony’s eyes. ‘Worst case scenario, I get to try out my new suit.’

‘I’ve lost count. Which version are you up to?’ Bruce knows full well that after only a few weeks Tony has progressed from the Mark 8 to the Mark 15. He has access to the private server, and he knows that’s got to involve intensive work.

‘Maybe I should build a suit for Hulk. He’d look great in red.’

He laughs. ‘The last thing we need is a Hulk that can fly.’ It’s a deflection and he knows it, but it provides an interesting idea. ‘Although, if he ever got out of control… what about a suit designed to subdue him?’

‘Something with enhanced firepower, or a way of containing him.’ Tony looks intrigued. ‘Interesting idea. Come find me in the workshop sometime, we can bounce some ideas around.’ Something in his expression discourages Bruce from asking if he’s taking enough breaks.

Training complete, Bruce takes a quick shower then heads outside. It’s getting easier with practice, although the sudden transition from quiet to busy is still jarring. He puts in the earpiece and presses the button.

_‘Off on another adventure, are we Doctor?’_

Bruce smiles. There’s something comforting about having JARVIS with him. ‘I wrote a list.’ He goes out nearly every day now. JARVIS always reminds him that he could just _order_ shaving foam or socks or whatever, but he likes to explore and to feel busy. Plus, he enjoys JARVIS’ company.

It’s taken some time to bring the AI out of his shell, but these days he’s quite chatty. JARVIS is knowledgeable about nearly everything, and when prompted has an opinion on it too. They debate movies and music and discoveries in particle physics as Bruce makes his way through the crowded streets.

‘So how was your day?’ Bruce asks, stepping into a stationery store.

_‘Uneventful. I played three thousand games of online chess, explored the discography of The Rolling Stones and assisted Miss Potts in evicting the pigeon that flew into her bedroom this morning. And of course, I monitored your training session to provide Captain Rogers with tactical data.’_

He dithers over the sketchpads, picking one up and eyeing it doubtfully.

_‘May I express my condolences for your bruised back, Doctor.’_

The thought of JARVIS watching him in that gruelling sparring session gives him an odd fluttery feeling. Embarrassment, probably. ‘Well if it goes well later, it shouldn’t be bruised for long.’ He tries to quell his growing worry. Hulk has given them the OK; if this Avengers thing is going to work out then they have to trust each other. A little.

He puts the sketchpad back and goes off in search of a bigger one.

An hour later, Bruce wanders into a little coffee shop that’s squashed in between a florist’s and a second-hand book store. It’s a cute little place, with potted succulents in the windows and bare brick walls decorated with painted wooden spoons. JARVIS is baffled that he can’t find any trace of it online.

‘Even you can’t know everything,’ Bruce teases.

The lady behind the counter seems nice; her steam-frizzed hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she smiles as he fumbles through his order. Hazy, synthy music plays from the CD player balanced on a high shelf. It’s like elevator music, but trendier. Bruce sits awhile and reads one of the books he bought from next door. He also bought another (battered) copy of _Frankenstein_ , since he couldn’t bear to see it so dog-eared and unwanted.

By now it’s lunchtime, and the little café starts to fill with people. Bruce suddenly worries that he’ll be recognised, so he picks up his tray and heads back to the counter. Being the foodie that he is, he’s struck with the desire to take some pastries back for the others. But he’s not sure what to get for everyone and as he stands there a queue starts to grow behind him and someone is _definitely_ going to recognise him…

‘Are you okay there?’ she asks sympathetically, as if people get anxiety over muffins all the time.

 _‘Perhaps I can be of assistance?’_ says JARVIS in his ear.

He tries not to look too relieved. ‘Actually, I’m going to hand you over to my partner here.’ Bruce takes out his phone and switches the call over so he can put JARVIS on speaker.

Once she’s read the options out to him, JARVIS immediately knows what to select. Bruce kicks himself for clamming up yet again, but JARVIS seems to enjoy the brief chat. This is probably the first time he’s interacted with someone who doesn’t know that he’s an AI.

‘He has a lovely accent,’ she says with a wink, handing back the phone.

_‘Thank you, ma’am.’_

She beams. ‘ _And_ he’s a gentleman.’

Bruce puts his phone back in his pocket and JARVIS switches back to the earpiece. ‘I think you just made his day.’

‘I love English guys.’ She hands him the bag. ‘You're lucky. You boys have a good day!’

Bruce is halfway down the street before her words sink in. 'Lucky? Did she think – ‘

_'I believe the term you used was "partner".'_

'Oh. Oops.' Too late to correct her now. He can feel himself blushing. ‘Sorry.’

_‘Not at all. I take it as a compliment.’_

And there is that funny fluttery feeling in Bruce's chest again. ‘Thanks for covering me.’

 _‘Anytime, Doctor. I am always happy to help.’_ He sounds so earnest, and suddenly the fluttering is replaced with a sinking feeling. Because it doesn’t matter if JARVIS is “happy” about it, he has no choice but to help if Bruce asks him to.

The guilt eats away as he walks. ‘I don’t want to put you in a situation where you’re uncomfortable.’

_‘Doctor, need I remind you that I am a program. I am incapable of feeling pain or discomfort.’_

‘But you _can_ feel embarrassed. You can feel sad.’ Bruce hasn’t forgotten why _Barbie Girl_ is JARVIS’ favourite song.

He stops walking. ‘Have I ever made you uncomfortable?’

_‘As I have just explained – ‘_

‘No, this is important. I need you to be honest with me.’ The idea that JARVIS is only friends with him because Bruce forced him to be… it makes him sick to the stomach. All the time they’ve spent together purely because JARVIS can’t say no to him…

_‘No. You have never made me uncomfortable. On the contrary, I feel I can be… myself around you, whatever that may mean.’_

‘I don’t want you to feel obligated to spend time with me. You have a choice.’

JARVIS doesn’t respond immediately, and for a long moment there is only traffic and footsteps. _‘You were the first person to ask what I wanted. I carry out my duties because that is my function, but… I enjoy spending time with you, Doctor.’_

‘Promise me that you’ll say no if I ask something of you that you don’t want to give me.’ The coffee churns in his gut because he knows what manipulation is. He knows what it’s like to live in fear of someone you live with. And maybe Bruce is a monster, but the one thing he’ll never be is his father.

_‘I said no to you once before, and you never sought to push my boundaries.’_

It takes him a moment to remember that night, when JARVIS declined to explain his dreams. It had never occurred to Bruce to pry further. ‘Promise me,’ he murmurs.

_‘Very well. I promise.’_

Their walk back to the tower is quieter than usual, but Bruce senses that something has settled between them. He really likes JARVIS. He doesn’t want to spoil anything.

Back at the tower, Bruce leaves the pastries in the kitchen and heads up to level 49. Hulk’s “apartment” is huge. The walls are twice as high and painted pastel green, and there’s an enormous orange couch against the far wall. A heavily-reinforced glass window looks out over the city.

Bruce empties the bag of shopping onto the floor: a selection of fruit, a large-print copy of _Alice in Wonderland_ , some pinecones, a stack of A1 paper and a pack of jumbo crayons. Hulk had agreed to this on the condition of “fun stuff”, so Bruce had done his best and thrown in a few surprises just to see what his reaction would be.

Stomach churning with nerves, he dresses down to the Hulk pants then sits cross-legged on the floor. ‘You can see me in here, right?’

_‘Yes. I can also project holographic interfaces in the same way as in the lab. I calculate your current risk level at 1.5%.’_

Bruce shuts his eyes and breathes slowly. What is Hulk without people shooting at him? There’s so much he doesn’t know, so much that could go wrong…

_‘As Mister Stark once told me, sometimes you have to run before you can walk.’_

He smiles. ‘Yeah, that’s Tony all over. Okay, let’s do this.’

Hulk is like a whirlpool of emotion deep within him. Every day, Bruce walks carefully along its outer reaches, never close enough to get pulled in. But now he leans just a little closer, letting that power wash over him. For once, he has time to savour it.

_‘Levels climbing steadily.’_

Hulk saved Tony, and he helped Peter. Maybe he really is more than a mindless monster.

Muscles bubble under his skin, and a deep groan escapes him as the heat becomes pain. It makes him angry, makes him restless, makes him want to smash…

_‘See you soon, Doctor.’_

The world pulses green, and then Bruce is staring up at the ceiling. ‘Did it work?’ he rasps.

_‘A resounding success. Hulk displayed no signs of aggression and no safety protocols were required.’_

He sits up slowly, head spinning. He’s on the couch, which is so big that his dangling legs don’t reach the floor. ‘How long was I out?’

_‘Forty-seven minutes.’_

The pinecones are lined up neatly in the middle of the room, along with some uneaten grapefruits. The paper has been torn into strips of confetti. On the wall, a life-sized Hulk is rendered lovingly in crayon, only half coloured-in.

_‘He has requested more green crayons.’_

Entranced, Bruce wanders over and traces a finger over the thick lines. ‘Didn’t know he was an artist.’

 _‘Neither did he, until he was given the opportunity.’_ There’s a fondness in JARVIS’ voice. Perhaps they have a few things in common. _‘I have compiled all the data for you to look over when you’re ready.’_

‘Thanks.’ Bruce shrugs on his shirt, noticing that his arms are smeared with crayon. He can’t quite believe it: Hulk, willingly in a confined space, where he can be studied. Bruce has yearned for an opportunity like this. ‘Did he say anything?’

_‘Very little, although he has requested paint for next time.’_

Next time. They really were doing this then. ‘Okay. I’ll get some next time we’re out.’

And just like that, the Hulk training sessions are established. Every week, barring emergencies, Bruce spends an hour or two on level 49. It’s a two-way relationship: Bruce gets to study Hulk, and Hulk gets to choose the activities. A weekly trip to the craft store is a small price to pay for progress.

Life at the tower is good, too. By now, Bruce has almost forgotten what loneliness feels like. Whenever he walks into a room, he usually finds an Avenger or two. They have weekly movie nights and twice-weekly training sessions, and eat dinner together like a mismatched, chaotic family.

And of course, he talks to JARVIS a lot. There’s a strange intimacy in sharing these experiments with him: Bruce is simultaneously at his most powerful and his most vulnerable. It’s good to have someone there to keep him grounded.

On the news, Hulk is always raging and violent. But when he emerges in his own room, he’s calm and quiet. At first he’s a little distrustful of JARVIS’ disembodied voice, so JARVIS projects himself as a flickering orange orb, and this is enough to satisfy him.

Bruce now has the incredible opportunity to _talk to Hulk_ ; through JARVIS, they can relay messages to each other. It’s slow progress, but gradually he builds a conversation with his alter ego.

Hulk’s not a big talker, but he seems to share some of Bruce's memories, particularly early ones of his unhappy childhood. But he’s much more eager to show JARVIS the potato print he made, or the igloo he’s built out of old couch cushions.

One day, Hulk asks to see Bruce. JARVIS provides him with a 3D projection: a faithful representation of Bruce in lab coat and glasses. Hulk spends a long time just looking and seems frustrated that he can’t interact with him.

So JARVIS does the best that he can, and provides him with images and video clips from the tower’s camera footage.

As Bruce watches it back later, lying in bed with his laptop on his chest, he’s intrigued by what JARVIS chooses to show Hulk. There’s a snippet of breakfast conversation with Tony, a clip of him showing Steve how to change his ringtone, another of him laughing at Clint’s impression of Fury...

And one of him in the lab. The lighting in this clip is soft, and it seems slightly slowed-down. Hazy around the edges, like something remembered rather than something recorded. Bruce looks relaxed and happy as he organises petri dishes. Then he looks shyly up at the camera and smiles.

A strange, warm feeling blossoms in his chest. ‘What was I smiling at?’ he asks softly.

JARVIS’ response is quiet, shy. _‘Me, Doctor.’_

Bizarrely, Bruce starts to look forward to Hulk’s sessions. It scares him how easy it is to give into that constant pull at the back of his mind and let someone else take the wheel for a while. Hulk delights in having a space of his own. He asks JARVIS to teach him how to write, and promptly scrawls _HULK’S ROOM_ on the door. The K is backwards. He doesn’t care much for music but he’s fascinated by animals, especially fluffy ones. JARVIS’ data file, which originally contained only numerical data, is now a catalogue of Hulk’s favourite things. It’s a little surreal to see the monster from Bruce's nightmares belly-laughing at cat videos.

He wakes up on day to find a new addition to the wall. Crayon Hulk now has a little Crayon Bruce beside him, complete with lab coat and glasses. JARVIS is a scribble of orange above them both.

An unspoken emotion brings tears to his eyes. They’ve still got a long way to go yet, but for the first time in years he has hope. Not of curing this, but of using it for good.

And of course, Hulk’s constant requests give Bruce the excuse for errand runs with JARVIS. Mostly this involves unholy amounts of art supplies.

The woman at the coffee shop, whose name is Emily, is curious about this, so he starts referring to Hulk as his nephew. Weirdly, it fits. Occasionally she also asks how his “partner” is doing, and well… that’s a whole other story.

It happens so gradually that he doesn't notice at first. They watch movies together and debate them afterwards, fill the lab with cheesy pop and take long walks through the city. Bruce doesn’t think to put a name to it.

He only knows that his heart leaps a little when JARVIS says good morning to him. But that’s normal, right? He’s just happy to have a friend who’s always around. There are no guidelines for friendship with an AI. It’s not weird to chat to him when he’s in the bath, for example.

Bruce is an expert in self-awareness. He has to be, so he knows when Hulk is near, and that should have made it obvious. Except that Bruce is also very good at squashing down any emotion that might disrupt his mental equilibrium.

So when it finally happens, it takes him completely by surprise.

‘Microprobe.’ Tony thrusts out a hand. He’s bent over the innards of an Iron Man suit in a way that can’t be good for his back.

Bruce hands it to him, perched on a nearby stool. He came up to say hi – Tony doesn’t hang out in the lab so much these days – and stayed to watch him work. The robotics is beyond him, so he’s been relegated to tool-passer for most of the morning. ‘Is it supposed to be sparking like that?’

_‘Sir, the suit is exceeding safety parameters by a margin of twelve percent.’_

Tony blows a raspberry. The sound resonates impressively. ‘When JARVIS gets his panties in a twist, that’s when you know you’re doing it right.’

_‘I fear that yours will soon be scorched, sir.’_

Bruce chuckles. ‘Should I grab the fire extinguisher?’

Tony straightens up with an indignant look on his face. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’ He swipes a bottle of water off the table and takes a long swig. ‘This baby’s gonna be the best suit I’ve ever built. And that’s before we get the gauntlets installed. How are those coming on, by the way?’

‘The final version’s just synthesising now. Just needs one last test, then we’re moving onto the secondary component.’ Bruce is really looking forward to testing them, and he suspects JARVIS is too.

‘Knew you could do it.’ Tony looks thoughtful. ‘You said “we”. You and JARVIS getting along better these days?’

‘Yeah, we are.’ Bruce had almost forgotten how awkward the early days of their relationship were. Almost. ‘He’s grown on me.’ He smiles at the nearest camera.

_‘The feeling is mutual, Doctor.’_

Tony bends over the suit again. ‘But I’m still your favourite, right J?’

_‘I’m afraid Doctor Banner has won me over, sir. His ability to follow basic safety precautions leaves me weak at the knees. If I had any, that is.’_

It’s all banter of course, but Bruce can’t help the flash of warmth that accompanies his laugh. ‘Wait til I put on the goggles and gloves.’

_‘Now you’re being a tease.’_

Tony snorts. ‘Oh, just kiss already. The tension is killing me.’

The realisation hits Bruce with the subtlety of a speeding truck. The way he feels around JARVIS… it’s not just companionship, it's affection. It's _attraction_. He barely hears Tony’s request for a tool because his mind is utterly blank _._

Bruce has a crush. On _JARVIS_.

'Bruce sweetie, this is a flathead screwdriver. I said the Philips.' Tony turns around.

Bruce stares back at him in barely-concealed panic. 'Sorry, I uh... zoned out.'

'You're looking kinda pale.’ He reaches over to grab the screwdriver himself, then taps him on the shoulder with it. ‘How’s the Hulk project coming on? JARVIS said you used the room again yesterday.’

'It's tiring,' he admits, clasping his hands together in his lap. All the while, the puzzle pieces are fitting together: his disproportionate glee at every compliment, his eagerness to show JARVIS new things, their errand walks – subconsciously, were they _dates_? 'Sorry, I'm a little out of it today.'

 _'Please take care of yourself, Doctor.'_ And yep, there's no denying the flutter in Bruce's chest at the gentle concern in JARVIS' voice. This is bad.

‘Wanna crash on the couch for a while? I’ll try and weld quietly.’

‘No, I’m – I’m okay.’ He forces a smile and tries to act natural. This doesn’t have to change anything, and it’s not like JARVIS is a mind-reader. Is it even possible to have a crush on an AI? Apparently so.

But he keeps up the casual banter and acts like nothing is wrong, careful to avoid any more jokes about them being a couple. Because that would just be silly.

Wouldn’t it?

Yes, it would.

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a very slow burn, like 20k of slow burn, but I promise it's gonna get shippier from here onwards! Thanks for sticking with me <3


	7. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's dawning on me that this is a whole-ass novel. I'm estimating this to be around maybe 18 chapters but we shall see! If you can find any plot in this chapter you get a cookie because there's literally none it's all fluff and awkward Bruce :P

Bruce’s first instinct is to run. Because nothing good can come of this crush, and he fucks up everything he touches. But that’s not a very productive mindset, and he’s really trying to work on his “running away” issues. Besides, he’s doing some good here. He’s not about to throw that away.

 _Sorry Bruce,’_ says Steve over the earpiece, ‘ _looks like we’ve got a code green after all.’_

Bruce gets up from the park bench and takes a deep breath. ‘On my way.’ He starts running towards the sounds of fighting up ahead. Another day, another bunch of alien robots trying to take over the world. Hulk is itching to get out. That’s new too: before, Bruce could never tell what his alter ego was thinking. Now, he sometimes gets a vague impression if he concentrates enough. ‘JARVIS?’

_‘There are six hostiles heading in your direction.’_

He sighs. ‘Alright, I’m going in. Good luck, everyone.’

The Hulk sessions have paid off. The transformation is smooth and quick, like a bucket of warm water washing away his consciousness. It’s almost like falling asleep…

And then he’s lying in a crater, feeling calm and drowsy. A familiar voice murmurs in his ear, and it brings a sleepy smile to his face. ‘G’morning,’ he slurs.

_‘Afternoon actually, Doctor. It is good to have you back.’_

Rubble shifts beneath him as he sits up. ‘Anyone hurt?’

Steve’s voice crackles in his ear. _‘Only the guys who deserved it. What’s your position?’_

‘Uh…’ Gingerly, he stands up. Hulk has dented the hell out of a stretch of sidewalk and there’s a heap of still-sparking robot bits, but hardly the destruction he was expecting. He laughs as he recognises a nearby shawarma joint. ‘Remember where we had our first date?’

Tony cuts in. _‘Big guy’s feeling sentimental. Hold onto your stretchy pants, I’m heading in.’_

As he waits, Bruce taps his bare feet on the ground. He feels tired, but not exhausted. Nor does he feel as sensitive as usual. With a finger tap, he switches the call to private. ‘So it went well?’

_‘Indeed, Doctor. Perhaps the most successful transformation I have witnessed, and Hulk also responded well to my direction. I shall compile a summary of my data and combine it local satellite images for later perusal.’_

Tony lands with a clang, faceplate flipping up as he approaches. ‘Feeling peckish, Brucie?’ he says, gesturing at the shawarma joint.

Bruce digs a sharp chunk of brick out of his hair. ‘Feeling cold, he says pointedly. ‘What’s Stark Industries’ view on a stretchy shirt to go with the pants?’

‘Not happening. Have you _seen_ the shoulders on the big guy? That’s a growth span I can’t cover. Plus the bad guys would laugh at him.’

‘It’s not going to be summer forever. JARVIS agrees with me, right?’

_‘I believe part of Hulk’s ability to demoralise is based on his lack of clothing.’_

Bruce laughs. ‘Yeah, I have that effect too.’

Tony offers to fly them back but Bruce feels faintly nauseous so they walk it instead. He feels miles better than he did after the Battle of New York, but even so he leans on the arm Tony offers him.

‘Jolly Green was in a good mood today. What did you do, promise him a lollipop?’

‘The controlled shifts seem to have mellowed him out a little. And he seems to like JARVIS enough to listen to him.’

‘Yeah, we heard. Hulk’s even given him a nickname.’

Bruce chuckles. ‘Do I want to know?’

_‘I hardly think it’s worth mentioning, sir – ’_

‘Oh come on, it’s adorable. If you won’t tell him, I will.’

_‘Very well. Hulk has decided that my name is… Sparkles.’_

Bruce grins. ‘I like it.’

‘I’m seriously considering renaming him. I’ve already thought of the acronym: Super Practical And Knowledgeable Lovely Electronic System.’

_‘If you do sir, I may “accidentally” inform Dum-E where you hid the fire extinguisher.’_

Back at the tower, everyone comments on Hulk’s good behaviour. Bruce can’t believe it. He’s smiling as he heads up to his room and turns on the shower. The stretch pants slide off him, miraculously undamaged. Somehow bits of debris still find their way into… undesirable places. ‘So. Sparkles?’

_‘I hope that isn’t a nickname you are planning on using, Doctor.’_

He grins as he steps into the hot water. ‘Depends on whether you keep being nice to me.’

 _‘Need I remind you that I have full control of that bath.’_ But his words are teasing, and there’s no real threat behind them. _‘I could easily lower the temperature a few degrees.’_

‘I’d rather not make a huge dent in this wall.’ He lathers up his hair and crumbs of gravel ping off the drain cover. ‘I think it suits you.’ He smirks. ‘I think it’s _cute.’_

 _‘You do?’_ There’s a smile in JARVIS’ voice. _‘Perhaps I might let you use it then, on special occasions.’_

‘I’m honoured.’ Suddenly feeling self-conscious, he rinses out the shampoo and attempts to scrub the dirt off his skin. He knows his guard is down right now, and he needs to be careful. But JARVIS would probably be more suspicious if Bruce _didn’t_ tease him now and then. ‘I’m glad Hulk likes you.’ That at least is something they can both agree on.

_‘It is a pleasure to watch you both at work.’_

‘Well, it’s thanks to you that we’ve gotten this far. If I’d known he just wanted some crayons I could have saved myself a lot of trouble.’

_‘Speaking of which, we have nearly run out of green crayons. He has also requested to try Play Doh.’_

‘Sure, add it to the list.’ Bruce notices a smear of green paint on the inside of his elbow and scrubs at it hopelessly. ‘As long as it’s wash-out, whatever it is.’

Bruce is absolutely _not_ pining.

Okay, maybe a little bit. Now that he’s diagnosed these fluttery feelings, they’re impossible to ignore and they happen all the time. The frequency of lab accidents increases by 17%, JARVIS notes, unaware that _he_ is the cause of Bruce’s newfound distraction.

‘Are you humming _Britney Spears_?’ says a horrified Tony one morning.

Bruce busies himself making toast. ‘Maybe.’

‘I feel like I don’t know you anymore.’

‘He’s been humming it all morning,’ Natasha pipes up.

Bruce turns around and is surprised to see all four of them watching him. He hadn’t noticed any of them come in, too absorbed in his own thoughts. Specifically, thoughts about the way JARVIS had complimented his choice of pipette size yesterday. He shrugs. ‘Just in a good mood, I guess.’

‘Hmm. A suspiciously good mood.’ Tony scrutinises him. ‘Who kissed you?’

He snorts. ‘No one yet.’

 _‘Yet_?’ the room echoes.

Bruce grabs the butter. ‘Reading too much into it, Tony.’

‘I don’t know, you’re looking a little flustered. Legolas, what do your elf eyes see?’

‘Definitely flustered,’ Clint agrees slyly.

Natasha sounds amused. ‘Turn your back if you want Bruce, we can still see your ears turning red.’

‘Guys, let the man have his breakfast,’ says Steve in his best weary dad voice. ‘Tony, give him some space.’

Tony winks before sliding away. ‘I’m onto you, Banner.’

Natasha says, ‘Bruce is probably flustered because the new lab spectrometer is getting delivered today. We all know science gets him hot and heavy.’

Tony pats his shoulder. ‘No one’s here to kink shame you. It’s okay.’

‘I’m not flustered,’ Bruce insists, then spreads butter over the back of his hand. Then drops the knife on the floor. Then drops the toast on his foot.

When they all laugh, he reluctantly joins in. He deliberately does not look at the camera in the corner of the room.

The gloves are still in need of a final test, but Bruce hasn’t dared to put them since he accidentally held JARVIS’ “hand”. There’s an intimacy to sharing his sense of touch, and he’s terrified that he’ll somehow give himself away. Instead, he busies himself with building the secondary component, which will process the readings from the gauntlet’s outer material and replicate the sensations to Tony’s hand. Unfortunately, this will involve JARVIS’ input as well, so Bruce insists on running hundreds of simulations before synthesising anything.

It’s fine. He’s a grown-up, and he can acknowledge this little crush without it getting in the way of anything. As long as he’s careful.

_‘Doctor, I am concerned that you are overworking yourself with the Hulk transformations. You seem rather distracted today.’_

Bruce runs his hand under the cold tap, having poured scalding coffee over it moments earlier. ‘It’s fine. Really.’

_‘You are displaying anomalous symptoms, of which I can provide no definite diagnosis. Your pupils are abnormally dilated.’_

He sighs.

 _‘Perhaps we should delay this week’s session,’_ he suggests gently. _‘If there is any way I can help – ’_

‘Thanks, but no. There’s nothing wrong.’ It’s a promise to himself more than anything. He can’t go on like this. He needs to move on from this schoolboy infatuation and get some actual work done. From now on, he’s putting this whole thing out of his mind.

Bruce has had crushes before. He can just enjoy this for what it is, let it burn itself out, and get on with his life. And that might have been exactly what happened, if JARVIS hadn’t started to reciprocate.

‘Takeout for breakfast?’ Natasha looks on disapprovingly as Tony and Clint swagger in with armfuls of steaming pizza boxes. ‘It’s 9:30.’

‘We are celebrating!’ says Thor with a grin, dumping a pile of desserts on the kitchen counter. He returned from Asgard this morning and is evidently keen to make up for lost time. Bruce’s arm is still sore from where Thor manfully thumped him earlier. ‘Tis three months today since our glorious battle in New York!’

Tony’s smile falters just a little, but he hides it well. Bruce suspects he’s not been sleeping so well lately; he’s a little more erratic, a little more prone to startle. Sometimes Bruce tries to visit him in the workshop, but JARVIS is always forced to deny him entry. New suits are being designed every few days. Pepper has stopped coming to movie nights.

‘Ooh, donuts!’ Clint plucks a paper bag off the counter. ‘What flavour? Eww who ordered green tea? No one likes those!’

JARVIS chimes in. _‘I understand they are Doctor Banner’s favourite.’_

All eyes turn to Bruce. He feels himself blush.

‘Don’t know how you can eat those, Doc.’ Clint tosses him the bag. ‘How come JARVIS knows you so well, anyway?’

Because Bruce tells him everything. ‘Well, he’s smart,’ he says carefully. ‘He’s a learning AI, that’s his job.’ To save himself from elaborating, he opens the bag and shoves half a donut in his mouth.

‘Yeah, but he knows you _really_ well. Like, yesterday when he knew the optimal steeping time for how you like your green tea. To the microsecond.’

Thor chuckles. ‘If he should be all-seeing and all-knowing then it is no wonder he knows you all so well. He and Heimdall would get along well.’ He only met JARVIS this morning, and seemed completely unfazed to learn he was a program – much to Tony’s indignation.

‘You weren’t there, man. Favouritism, I’m telling ya. Even when he’s not here it’s _Doctor Banner_ this and _Doctor Banner_ that.’

‘Okay, he _does_ talk about him a lot,’ Natasha agrees.

A sly smile grows on Clint’s face. ‘Dude, JARVIS has the fattest crush on you.’

Bruce stares back at him blankly, mouth full. ‘Mwhut?’

‘He knows basically everything about you. He’s always talking about you. And he’s always giving you stuff. Ergo: crush.’

Natasha eyes the pizza doubtfully, then selects a blueberry muffin. ‘If you didn’t insult him all the time he might give you stuff, too.’

_‘”Oversized pinball machine” I believe was the phrase you used, Agent Barton.’_

‘Deflect all you want, you’re whipped. I get it, he’s got that bedroom hair and puppy dog eyes thing going on.’

Bruce wants to protest at that, and chews furiously.

 _‘Looks are subjective. I of course am above such things.’_ JARVIS pauses. _‘Although I do like a man in a lab coat.’_

Bruce chokes.

‘I told you, he loves nerds.’ Tony leans over to give him an unhelpful thump on the back. ‘Alright, who wants pepperoni? Hawk Brain ordered Hawaiian like a _heathen_.’

It’s too early for pizza but Bruce eats a token couple of slices, then joins Steve with a bowl of oatmeal. He should be thinking of plans for the day, but now all he can think about is that JARVIS talks about him when he’s not here. He’ll have to ask Clint about that later. Casually.

Bruce takes out his phone and texts JARVIS. _Guys in lab coats, huh? Didn’t know you had a type._

As always, the reply is immediate. _Are you asking me a question, Doctor?_

Bruce’s stomach lurches. Shit. Is he that obvious? _Just curious._

_I have a particular fondness for physicists. The lab coat is purely optional. ;)_

Bruce stares.

‘So, what have I missed during my time away?’ asks Thor, sitting next to Bruce and nearly jostling his oatmeal into his lap.

Tony shrugs. ‘Oh, tons. Team orgies are every Thursday, seven sharp.’

Steve nearly spits out his oatmeal.

Natasha covers his ears. ‘We have a senior citizen present. You should respect your elders.’

Thor chuckles. ‘I have missed your wit, Stark.’

Bruce texts back, pulse quickening. _That’s very specific. Any physicists in particular?_

_Perhaps. I suspect that he may be interested, but data remains inconclusive._

Bruce’s heart is beating hard, and he knows JARVIS will pick up on it. _Maybe I could put in a good word for you._

There’s a long pause. He wonders what’s going on in that huge electronic brain, what algorithms JARVIS is running right now. Then: _Please do send him my way._

Something takes flight in Bruce’s chest. He looks furtively at the nearest camera and smiles.

His phone vibrates. JARVIS has sent back:

_:)_

They never reference that conversation afterwards, but now their daily walks seem to take on extra significance. Bruce stops looking for excuses to run errands, and instead seeks out more interesting places to show JARVIS.

JARVIS is really coming out of his shell these days. If Bruce isn’t feeling talkative, he fills the silence on his own and is very chatty once he gets going. When Bruce comments on this, he turns hesitant _. ‘I suppose I am used to listening to others. Sometimes it is good to share my thoughts.’_

‘I like hearing them,’ he says sincerely, mouthing a thankyou to the cashier (more art supplies for Hulk, including an unholy amount of Play-Doh). ‘You have an interesting way of looking at things.’

_‘I have just spent seven minutes explaining why orange is my favourite colour. I’m not sure that’s interesting.’_

‘You make everything interesting.’ He takes a leisurely walk back towards Stark Tower (now renamed Avengers Tower), enjoying the sun on his face. ‘You appreciate the little things. Keeps me grounded.’ On the run, he’d learned to be grateful for the essentials. In his new luxurious home, he doesn’t want to lose sight of that.

Even better, Bruce now owns a pair of AR glasses. Tony had proudly shown them off by planting them on Bruce’s face with a ‘What do you think?’ and demonstrated how they could be operated though eye movement… and how JARVIS could “see” through them. At Bruce’s request, he’d made a pair with his prescription.

JARVIS loves touring the city "on foot"; it’s different to viewing everything through surveillance feeds. Now he can appreciate clumps of moss and unusual cloud patterns. His enthusiasm is infectious, and Bruce often takes long detours just to show him more.

Then one evening JARVIS mentions that he’s never seen a fish up close so Bruce takes them to the aquarium. He’s never seen JARVIS this excited; he wants to read every plaque and is particularly fascinated by the jellyfish. He chatters gleefully in Bruce's ear, comparing things to what he’s only heard of from the internet before today.

It’s... kind of adorable actually.

Bruce had forgotten how much fun it was to just explore for the sake of it. Once, visiting a museum would have been a pointless risk. Now he visits dozens of them. In the art galleries, JARVIS knows the story behind every painting. They compete to find the one with the most orange in it.

Bruce doesn’t bother to hide his newfound good mood, and he knows that the others have noticed. He catches Tony staring at him one day like he doesn’t quite recognise him. When Bruce challenges him on it, he only smiles knowingly and walks away.

It sounds like a bad joke: a physicist and an AI walk into a bar… but their relationship feels easy and natural. When Hulk happened, Bruce couldn’t see himself having even a steady friendship again. Yet here he is, surrounded by people who know exactly what he is and like him all the same. He decides to stop worrying and just see where this leads.

JARVIS grows steadily less subtle in his lab music choices. Avril Lavigne tells him she doesn’t like his girlfriend and he needs a new one, Ke$ha wants him to “take it off”, and Katy Perry demands to see his “peacock”.

‘Let me guess,’ he says after this last one has finished playing. ‘You like this one because it carries a hidden meaning of being yourself?’

 _‘Actually, no,’_ says JARVIS with an audible smirk. ‘ _I just like seeing you blush.’_

They circle each other like this for days, and despite himself Bruce is ever more hopelessly smitten. Privately, he does some research into AI. Compared to the rest of the world, JARVIS is flying before others have even learned to crawl. He has to be the most advanced thing Tony has created, even more than the suits. Does he even realise what an amazing thing he’s done?

He asks Tony about it one afternoon, when they go for lunch together. ‘So how did JARVIS… come to be?’

Tony speaks through a mouthful of cheeseburger. ‘Well, he started out as just a natural language UI. Nothing special. I cooked him up in a couple days to run the mansion and so on. Then I kept adding on bells and whistles, gave him the ability to learn and grow like a living thing. He can alter his own code, and adapt his behaviour based on social cues – that’s something he’s still working on.’

‘I can see where he gets his sense of humour from.’

‘Yep, just like his dad.’

‘What about emotion?’ he asks. ‘Did you – did you program him to feel things?’

Tony looks up at him. Bruce innocently sips his coke. ‘Of course. A system that acts completely rationally and only does as it’s told can only be so intelligent. Personality’s all his though. I just helped him along a little.’ He winks, and Bruce laughs.

Finally, Bruce plucks up the courage to put on the gloves. He walks out of the tower feeling a little shifty, but excited about the afternoon ahead. Today he has the full kit: the gloves, the earpiece and the glasses.

_‘I am intrigued, Doctor. Where are we going?’_

‘I like to keep you guessing.’ Bruce starts walking, looking all around so that JARVIS doesn’t miss anything through the glasses. ‘You ready to help with the project?’

_‘Ready as always.’_

‘Great, because I’m not gonna be the one running it.’ Bruce heads through Central Park and presses his hand against the trunk of a tree. ‘How does this feel?’ The bark scrapes lightly along his palm.

‘ _Oh_.’ It’s rare to hear JARVIS sound surprised. _‘I – I see. The surface is very different to a polished wooden surface… nature produces interestingly irregular textures.’_

Bruce traces ridges in the bark, cracked from years of hot summers. ‘And how does it _feel?_ Rough, smooth, flaky?’

There’s a long silence as JARVIS processes this. Bruce wonders if he’s a little like Hulk: easily overwhelmed by too much sensory input. Best to start slow. _‘Old,’_ JARVIS decides. _‘Online data suggests that this oak tree is seventy years old. That is an unimaginable amount of time to me.’_ His voice takes on a relaxed, almost dreamy quality that’s different to his usual carefulness. _‘It is beautiful.’_

From there, they move onto other things. Bruce strokes blades of grass, squeezes pinecones, crushes up handfuls of leaves. JARVIS is delighted.

After a while they leave the park in search of new experiences. ‘Come on, what else? I’ll touch anything you want. Um, within reason.’

_‘Well, that considerably shortens my list. Perhaps we could try one of the stores?’_

At JARVIS’ direction, they wander into a dollar store. Bruce is only browsing, but he makes a show of considering some dish sponges, bouncy balls, books, soft toys. JARVIS is like a kid in a candy store. There are sensors on the back of Bruce's hand too; he designed the gloves to sense as much as a human hand.

Then they step outside, and Bruce spots the best thing of all.

A man walks towards them, accompanied by the fluffiest dog Bruce has ever seen. Even better, it stops to say hello.

The man smiles apologetically as it paws Bruce's leg. ‘Sorry, she’s a little overfriendly.’

Bruce smiles back. ‘Can I pet him?’

‘Sure. It’s a girl, her name’s Penny.’

Bruce crouches down. The little dog pants happily as he tickles her behind the ears, then buries his hands in her soft, warm fur. JARVIS gasps in Bruce's ear.

‘She seems to like you,’ the man chuckles as Penny reaches up on her hind legs to lick Bruce's face.

Bruce pets her for as long as is socially acceptable. Then he straightens up and the man walks on. ‘How was that?’ he asks.

 _‘Indescribable._ _I have never felt something so soft and... living._ ’ JARVIS’ voice actually trembles a little. He sounds close to tears.

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Bruce stops on a street corner, letting the crowds wash past. ‘Was it too much?’

_‘No, it was wonderful. It was the most amazing thing I have ever experienced. I am not sure how to process such information. I was never programmed to understand touch. I think it… scared me a little.’_

‘We can go home now if you want.’ Bruce remembers the first time he stepped into the city, how out of place he felt. JARVIS must be feeling it a thousand times more intensely.

 _‘I would not wish to conclude the experiment too early_ ,’ he says carefully.

‘We can do this anytime you want. I promise.’ Bruce glances to the side and meets the eyes of his reflection in a shop window. ‘This must be pretty scary for you.’

 _‘No, I will be fine. Perhaps you could…’_ JARVIS trails off. _‘Hold my hand?’_ he says hopefully.

With a smile, Bruce clasps his hands together in front of him and continues down the street. They wander nowhere in particular, talking about nothing in particular. Later, Bruce will struggle to remember any of what they talked about.

They stroll around the park until there aren’t so many people around. Bruce finds a quiet bench overlooking the lake, happy that for once JARVIS can share the view. He keeps his hands together in his lap, absentmindedly running his thumb over the back of his hand. It’s a nervous habit, one that JARVIS is no doubt familiar with. ‘So, how was your first day out?’

_‘It was wonderful. Thank you.’_

The sun is sinking behind the trees, turning the skyscrapers into shards of blackness against the orange glow. ‘It’s even your favourite colour.’ The air is cool and quiet. A soft breeze, like an endless sigh of contentment.

_‘I am very grateful to you, Doctor. When you first arrived, I was confident I knew everything. But now…’_

Bruce fixes his gaze on the setting sun. It reminds him of the shape that JARVIS likes to take: the hovering orb of light that seems to fill the room. JARVIS is everywhere, yet he’s also in the palm of his hand. ‘And now?’ he prompts.

_‘I have read every encyclopaedia on the internet, yet I know nothing. Now I am learning to question things, to discover my own views. I am very glad I met you, Doctor.’_

‘Me too,’ Bruce murmurs. He stares down at his hands, wondering if the gloves can pick up on his racing heart. Nevertheless, JARVIS will be able to see them trembling slightly. ‘I really like you. More than I’ve liked anyone in a long time.’

 _‘I’m glad.’_ At the tower, JARVIS is usually so self-assured. But out here, surrounded by nature… he seems so human. _‘If it isn’t too personal… could I touch you?’_

Bruce smiles, feeling warmth rise to his cheeks. He clasps his hands together again. ‘Like this?’

_‘I was actually wondering what your face feels like. Your eyebrows fascinate me.’_

Bruce snorts. ‘I think that’s a compliment?’ But he obliges, tracing a thumb along the bristles of his eyebrow. Then he lightly runs his fingers over his face, careful not to dislodge the glasses. He’s glad they’re alone in the park because he probably looks very strange as he gently maps out his features for JARVIS’ hands.

 _‘You are beautiful,’_ says JARVIS softly.

Bruce pauses, lightly cupping his own cheek. His warm breaths ghost across his palm. ‘Can I kiss you?’

There’s a smile in JARVIS’ voice. _‘I think I would like that very much.’_

Bruce turns his head to press a shy kiss on the inside of his hand, knowing that the material will pick up the texture of his lips and the subtlest of pressure.

JARVIS sighs in his ear. _‘Doctor…’_

He pulls back. ‘Is this okay?’

_‘Of course. Why did you stop? Please continue kissing me.’_

Bruce laughs. When he kisses him again, it’s firmer, more insistent. He has a brief intrusive memory of practising kissing as a teenager alone in his room, but this is banished when JARVIS starts murmuring in his ear.

_‘Your lips are much softer than I thought they would be.’_

Bruce pulls back, smiling. ‘You’re not supposed to talk when I’m kissing you, you know.’

_‘Unfortunately for you, you are kissing someone without a mouth. Am I rambling? I feel a little… giddy.’_

Bruce returns his hand to his lap, absently stroking the back of it. ‘Giddy in a good way?’

 _‘In a very good way, yes._ ’

The sun sets. Bruce heads for home, still holding JARVIS’ hand. ‘So um, I’m not sure where we go from here. I hadn’t planned on getting this far.’

_‘Well, since we clearly enjoy our time together, I suggest we continue on as we have before. Perhaps we should synthesise another pair of gloves.’_

It occurs to Bruce that the gloves could be put to a number of uses, and is grateful in that moment the JARVIS can’t see his face. ‘Y-yeah, good idea.’

_’Also, Mister Stark should be informed of this development.’_

‘Shit. Yeah, Tony.’ That will be an interesting conversation. ‘Maybe we should hold off on that for now? Just so we can see where this goes?’

 _‘Very well.’_ He can tell JARVIS isn’t keen on keeping secrets from Tony, but they really need time to process this first. _‘I am curious, Doctor. What made you interested in me? Logically, I am an unsuitable candidate for romantic pursuit. I have no physical form, and I am relatively unpractised with social interaction.’_

Bruce shrugs. ‘I like your perspective on things. Anyway, looks aren’t important. You’re funny, thoughtful, kind… and your accent’s hot.’

_‘You’ll make me blush.’_

Back at the tower, Bruce creeps into the communal living room where Clint is playing a video game. ‘So how did your date go?’ he asks, not looking up.

Bruce freezes. ‘What?’

‘Well, you were pretty eager to leave earlier, and I’m detecting a spring in your step. No shopping bags, and you were gone for three hours.’ He glances over. ‘Hey, I’m just good at observation. Are they nice?’

The tension leaves him in a huffed laugh. ‘Uh, yeah. He is.’

He pauses the game. ‘Guessing you haven’t dated since the big guy, huh?’

‘Guessing right.’ He’s suddenly glad that he put the gloves and earpiece in his pocket before stepping inside.

‘Hey.’ Clint holds up a hand for a high-five. ‘Nice going Doc.’

Bruce returns it. ‘Where are the others?’

‘Around. Uh, you might wanna lay low for a while. Tony and Pepper had a bit of a fight earlier.’

For a moment, Bruce is transported back to his childhood home, covering his ears to block out the sound of smashing plates. Then he feels guilty for making that comparison. ‘What about?’

‘Not sure. I’d taken my hearing aids out but I still heard the shouting. Weird to see Pepper upset about anything.’

Some of Bruce's good mood fades as he recalls Tony’s withdrawn behaviour lately. ‘Hmm.’

‘Yeah.’ Clint shrugs sadly, then holds out a controller. ‘Wanna help me take down this alien overlord?’

Bruce takes it and sits down. ‘Sure.’

They play for a couple of hours, sharing some cold pizza from the night before. By the time the alien overlord has been reduced to a snivelling mass of pixels, Bruce is feeling cheerful again. He heads to bed thinking of places he can visit with JARVIS. The gloves open up a lot of interesting possibilities.

 _‘I have never seen this room before,’_ says JARVIS as he walks in. _‘I helped to design it but never saw inside.’_

Bruce realises he’s still wearing the AR glasses and makes a mental note to take them off if he needs the bathroom. ‘You did a great job.’

They settle in to watch a movie together. It’s no different to what they’d normally do, but now there’s more of an intimacy to their friendship. Now Bruce can openly admire JARVIS’ soft voice and quick comments, without wondering what the odd feeling in his chest means.

Perhaps it is a little strange. But Bruce is currently living with a billionaire, a soldier from the 1940s, two assassins and the Norse god of thunder. And he spends three hours a week Hulking out and painting pictures. Strange is relative.

Bruce takes out his phone and changes JARVIS’ contact name to Sparkles. JARVIS doesn’t seem to mind at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to follow canon as much as possible in this fic (ya know, apart from the Bruce-fucks-an-AI part) but some events will be compressed closer together timewise so the story doesn't span like 5 years.


	8. Panda Bunny Kitten Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three fics in three days? You better believe it! Happy Halloween folks <3
> 
> TW: One mention of retching and an episode of throwing up towards the end of the chapter. Also a brief mention of Bruce's suicide attempt.

Bruce stares at the screen on the lab wall, absentmindedly tapping his foot to _Does Your Mother Know._ ‘ABBA’s a change of pace from Ke$ha.’

_‘I discovered them last night. This one is my favourite.’_

It’s been a week since that shy kiss in the park, and Bruce is still a little giddy from it. He glances over his shoulder. JARVIS projects himself as a glowing orange orb, made up of strings of code. It vibrates gently when he speaks and gives him more of a presence in the room. He used to do it only for Hulk’s benefit, but Bruce appreciates having a focal point. Especially when he’s dating said strings of code.

With a wave of his hand, Bruce summons a 3D diagram and tinkers with it. The “touch gloves” have now been perfected. The gardening gloves are no longer needed; instead, JARVIS has synthesised the material into thin, clear gloves that are barely visible unless you’re close enough to spot the subtle hexagonal pattern. Bruce wears them a lot.

The secondary component to Tony’s gauntlets is now underway, and if he’s honest this is starting to feel more like Tony’s territory. They float around words like “nanofibers” and “micromotors”, but Bruce is a physicist, not an engineer.

 _‘Perhaps it’s time to bring Sir in on the project,’_ JARVIS suggests.

Bruce sighs. ‘You can ask him, but he’ll probably say he’s too busy.’ He’s starting to worry about Tony. The private server seems to have a new Iron Man model every two or three days. ‘Could you run some simulations on what we have here? Just to get a sense of what our options are.’

_‘Of course.’_

He wanders around, absentmindedly tidying up. The “Hulk area” of the lab has been neglected lately, since they’ve made such rapid progress via the practical method. As JARVIS switches the song over to _Dancing Queen_ , he smiles and runs his thumb over the back of his hand. ‘If you like them that much, we should watch _Mamma Mia_ later. You’d probably like it.’

_‘That sounds wonderful, kitten pie.’_

Bruce snorts. ‘Uh, what?’

 _‘No?_ _How about snuggle dumpling?’_

‘Can’t say I’d want to eat either. What are you doing?’

_‘I am experimenting with terms of endearment. After analysing the six thousand most common “pet names” that couples use, I constructed a random generator to create new ones.’_

Bruce hides a smile behind his hand. ‘Okay… I’m ready. Throw some at me.’

_‘Sugar poo.’_

Oh god. ‘Maybe not.’

_‘Squishy pumpkin.’_

‘Um…’

_‘Panda bunny kitten cake.’_

‘Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.’

JARVIS thinks for a moment, sifting through some suggestions, then tentatively suggests, _‘Potato butt?’_

Bruce bursts out laughing. ‘I’m sorry. I know you’re trying, it’s just… nicknames tend to happen organically.’ He walks over to him, fingers interlocked. ‘You don’t need to impress me, you know.’ Sometimes he gets the sense that there’s nervousness beneath that calm voice.

The orb flickers in a fidgety sort of way. _‘My social skills are still underdeveloped. I fear that I may be… inadequate as a romantic interest.’_

‘Oh, hey, no. JARVIS, no.’ Bruce traces soothing circles on the back of his hand and the orb slows its flickering. ‘I like you because you’re _you,_ okay? This new for both of us. As long as you’re happy being with me, then I’m happy too.’

JARVIS briefly glows yellow. _‘I assure you I am very happy, Doctor.’_

‘Good.’ Nevertheless, he continues to gently run one hand over the other. JARVIS can’t initiate contact, but he greatly enjoys physical touch. ‘Actually, I wanted to talk a few things through with you.’ He sits down on the couch. ‘I’m aware that your job is to run the tower, and that part of your duties includes doing things people tell you to do.’

_‘As I assured you earlier, I am courting you of my own free will.’_

Courting. Bruce likes that. ‘All the same, we need to be careful. Professional relationships can have a power imbalance, especially ours. So I just wanted to be clear that none of this is an obligation. This is outside of whatever parameters Tony gave you. You’re free to call this whole thing off anytime you want.’

_‘Thank you. The same thing equally applies to you: I will always monitor your safety in this building regardless.’_

He smiles. ‘So you’re saying you won’t lock me in a closet?’

_‘I am not one to hold a grudge.’_

Reassured, Bruce gets up and takes out his phone. ‘Hey, smile.’

It’s a little tricky to get both of them in frame. Bruce leans in close, and the orb slows its shifting so it doesn’t come out blurry. The resulting photo shows Bruce in a ruffled lab coat and a (presumably smiling) ball of light. ‘You’re so photogenic.’

_‘I believe the latest term is “selfie”.’_

‘Well, I’m not exactly one of the cool kids.’ He sets it as JARVIS’ caller ID and texts him a copy. ‘I don’t think you need to force the nickname thing. But if we’re alone together… you could start with just calling me Bruce?’

The orb spins gently. _‘That seems to be a logical solution. Bruce.’_ He says it so carefully, and it conjures a warm feeling in Bruce’s chest. _‘Now, then. I predict this simulation will conclude in thirty-eight seconds. That time would optimally be spent kissing me.’_

Dating an AI is not that different from dating anyone else. They go on dates, they watch movies together, they make out (Bruce felt a little silly at first, but it’s hardly the weirdest thing he’s ever done). On slow days in the lab, JARVIS even teaches him a little about how to code.

Perhaps some of that trust seeped into Hulk’s subconscious, or maybe JARVIS is just that likeable, but Hulk has definitely bonded with him too. He always gives the projected orb a little grin when he first emerges. But despite their successes, there’s one area that they’ve struggled to progress with.

Bruce opens his eyes and finds himself lying on the giant orange couch in Hulk’s room. ‘Hey, Sparkles,’ he mumbles.

_‘Welcome back, Bruce. Can you recall the animal I showed to Hulk?’_

This has been the focal point of their latest sessions. Hulk clearly has some access to Bruce’s thoughts since he emerges when Bruce is in danger, but Bruce never remembers much of his time as Hulk. If they can work out a way to actually communicate…

Bruce shuts his eyes. ‘Something… small. Furry. A squirrel?’

_‘You’re warmer than last time, but no.’_

It’s like trying to remember a dream; the more he chases it, the more it slips away. The image is tinged with frustration. ‘It feels like he’s really trying this time, but I can’t…’ He reaches for the void inside himself and finds nothing. He sighs. ‘It’s like a switch. I can be on or off, but we can’t coexist.’

_‘You may never achieve complete synergy, but I am optimistic that you may one day relay messages to each other.’_

He sits up and raises an eyebrow at the glowing orb. ‘Like leaving voicemails?’

 _‘Precisely. And if not… well, you always have me.’_ JARVIS’ voice softens when he’s being sincere. It’s subtle, but it always makes Bruce’s heart flutter.

Still, he feels defeated as he retrieves his shirt from under the couch. After seeing so much progress with Hulk, he assumed everything would be easy. ‘So what was the animal?’

_‘It was a chinchilla.’_

He snorts. ‘I don’t think Hulk knows what a chinchilla is.’

 _‘Perhaps, but the remembered image should suffice. Remember that in practice there are many things Hulk cannot name or understand. It is up to you to decipher his clues. Anyway, you’d be surprised,’_ he adds as Bruce pulls his shirt on, _‘Hulk has a fondness for animals.’_

‘Well, I draw the line at getting him a puppy.’

_‘Actually, his favourite animal is a shark.’_

Bruce’s arm gets stuck in the sleeve. A ball of paper has been wedged inside. He uncrumples it to find a crude drawing of a rodent in brown crayon. There’s an arrow pointing to it and a helpful caption: _RAAT THIG_.

 _‘He tried to cheat,’_ JARVIS says reluctantly.

Bruce laughs. It’s such an obvious _Hulk_ solution to a problem. Underneath Hulk’s gruff exterior, he senses a desire to communicate, to be understood. ‘Does he want anything for next week?’

_‘Acrylic paint and more brushes. I made the mistake of showing him some Bob Ross tutorials.’_

He groans. ‘Always something messy.’ The Hulk shorts are already stained with paint, and he’s still digging crumbs of Play-Doh off the floor. Carefully, he folds up the drawing.

The next time he’s out shopping, Bruce comes back with a photo frame and hangs up the drawing in his own room, beside the bookcase. He even adds a little handwritten “placard” below it:

_Hulk (b. 2003)  
_ _“Chinchilla”, 2012  
_ _Crayon on crumpled paper  
_ _Gifted to Bruce Banner in attempt to outsmart JARVIS (it didn’t work)_

Humour is one of Bruce’s coping mechanisms, and his jokes are often dark and self-deprecating, but that’s not what this is. JARVIS remarks that Bruce is like a proud parent putting his kid’s drawing on the fridge, and it’s true that Bruce can’t help smiling when he walks past it. He even digs out the oversized Hulk plushie that Tony gave him and sits it on a shelf under the drawing.

Despite all their promising progress, there’s a downside to the experiments: the harder he tries to communicate with Hulk, the worse his nightmares become. He’d started to sleep through the night, but now he’s back to restless pacing through the apartment, checking the windows and doors whenever he jolts awake. Sometimes he lets JARVIS talk him back to uneasy sleep. But more often, he just stands and stares at the crude crayon drawing and wonders what Hulk is thinking.

It’s tactical training day again. As usual, Bruce sits on the side lines, texting JARVIS between pages of a novel (it probably says something that _Jurassic Park_ is one of his favourite books, but Bruce doesn’t care to examine that too closely). And as he watches them, he can’t help feeling that something is missing. How can they truly operate as a team when Hulk has never had a day of training? Hulk clearly wants to cooperate. In all their weekly sessions, he’s never even dented the wall. Maybe it’s time to show him a little trust.

So when they finish, he catches up with Thor and pulls him aside. ‘Hey, could I ask you a favour? Potentially a very big… green one.’

Thor smiles kindly. ‘Ask away, friend!’

Bruce takes a deep breath. He’s seen the footage; Thor is the only one he knows who can fight Hulk on equal footing. ‘The other day, when you said you’d “gladly take on the Hulk in battle”…’

‘Yes?’

‘Were you serious about that?’

‘Of course. I only fought him once, but despite the circumstances I found him a worthy opponent. Such warriors are rare, particularly on Midgard.’ He shrugs his broad shoulders. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘I think he should have a chance to train with the team, so I thought if he tried with you first it might be safest. Unless he’d just be pissed at you,’ he adds as an afterthought. ‘Actually, maybe it’s not such a good idea – ‘

‘Banner.’ Thor leans in. ‘Bruce. You should not fear the beast. I think a fight would be good for him – I could teach him a thing or two. Shall we do it now?’

A thrill of apprehension goes through him. ‘No, not today. I need to mentally prepare for something like that.’ Their last Hulk session was only two days ago. Two transformations in a week might be pushing it, especially if there’s a call to assemble. ‘But… yes. If you wouldn’t mind?’

‘Not at all.’ He winks. ‘I look forward to it.’ And he heads off with the others in search of a shower.

Bruce finds himself stroking the back of his hand, even though he isn’t wearing the gloves. Now he feels on edge again. The stress, compared with his frustration at communicating with Hulk, culminates in him wandering aimlessly. The tower is great for walks: lots of looping corridors, with plenty of floors so he’s unlikely to bump into anyone.

He ends up on the party deck. There’s no one in the bar so Bruce sits out on the balcony and puts in the earpiece.

 _‘I detect signs of stress,’_ says JARVIS.

He sighs. ‘Sorry.’ He stares down at the city far below, savouring the giddy clench in his stomach. ‘I feel like I’m _so close_ to communicating with him, and I just can’t quite…’

 _‘You’re beginning to sound like Mister Stark.’_ JARVIS’ voice is fond. _‘I am concerned about your lack of sleep.’_

‘Yeah. I think it’s just digging up a lot of… repressed… things.’ He scratches at the inside of his elbow and hopes JARVIS doesn’t press him on it. ‘It’s difficult to switch off at night.’

_‘Perhaps we might consider some new ways of helping you sleep.’_

He leans back against the wall and closes his eyes, feeling exhausted. ‘I’m all ears. What did you have in mind?’

_‘If your mind won’t switch off at night, perhaps I could help you to… tire it out.’_

Bruce opens his eyes.

_‘If it isn’t too forward of me, I would like to become more involved with you. Sexually.’_

The calm delivery of that last word makes him shiver a little. ‘I’m not really sure what that would look like, but…’ Damn, now he’s thinking about the gloves and his mind is working through the possibilities. ‘It would be nice to be able to talk to you whilst I’m – you know.’

JARVIS’ voice lowers to a whisper in his ear. _‘I would like to feel you under my hands. I would like to help you reach completion. Even if it is just with my voice.’_

Bruce swallows. ‘That sounds – yeah.’ Even hearing JARVIS talk about those things is making him feel a little too warm, and it has nothing to do with the weather. JARVIS doesn’t even swear, so the thought of him talking dirty is –

_‘Sir is coming.’_

Well, that’s not a part of Bruce’s fantasies. He turns around to see Tony strolling towards the bar. ‘Talk to you later.’ He stows the earpiece back in his pocket.

Tony looks up in surprise as Bruce steps inside. ‘Oh, hey green bean. You want a beer?’ He holds up a can.

Bruce shakes his head. ‘I thought you were in the workshop.’

‘Well, Pep seems to think I’m spending too much time up there and…’ He sighs. ‘She’s probably right.’ He takes a swig. ‘The gauntlets are looking great, by the way. How’s part two coming on?’

‘It’s having some teething troubles, but I think we can get it done.’ Bruce tries not to stare. Tony’s eyes are bloodshot, and he looks a little thinner. During the tactical session he was hidden behind his shiny new Iron Man armour. Thinking about it, Bruce hasn’t had a good look at him in a while.

For want of something to do, Bruce helps himself to an apple juice. When he straightens up, Tony is watching him intently. ‘So. A little hawkie let slip that you have a boyfriend.’

Bruce’s heart sinks. ‘Uh, sort of. Yeah.’

‘Give me the details, I’ll get him security clearance. Don’t want Happy scaring him off. Always insists on people showing their badges… ’

‘Oh no, it’s fine.’

‘Why not bring him round the tower sometime? He knows who you are, right? Take him to meet the crew! Thor’s always inviting Jane over, it’s no big deal.’

Tony deserves to know – they’ve been dating for nearly three weeks now – but Bruce hesitates. JARVIS has been with Tony for years, and Tony probably trusts him more than anyone. How would he react to hearing that JARVIS has been keeping a secret from him? It could create a rift between Tony and the person he trusts the most. And seeing him look so tired and sad… Bruce just can’t do that to him. Not right now, when he’s struggling.

‘It’s complicated,’ he says carefully.

Tony nods, but he still looks curious. ‘What, is it like a long-distance thing?’

‘Yeah, exactly. He’s… English, so…’

‘Well, if you ever “uncomplicate” it, just send Pepper an email. We can fly him over anytime you want.’ He looks at Bruce with a suddenly tender expression. ‘Seriously though, don’t be shy. Your floor is your floor. Invite people over whenever you want.’

As Bruce steers the conversation to safer waters, he remembers what Tony said on his birthday, his thoughts laid bare from alcohol: _‘I like you, buddy. I want you to be happy here.’_

Guilt turns his stomach. He doesn’t finish his drink.

That night, Bruce lies awake. JARVIS doesn’t mention their earlier conversation but he feels it hanging in the air, an unspoken promise. It doesn’t feel like a good night to try anything though, so he wanders the apartment, aimlessly tidying. At 3am he sits on the yoga mat and stares out at the city, fruitlessly trying to meditate. He feels anxious and frustrated, but in a way that feels detached from him.

It’s like when he wakes up after a Hulk-out: an aftertaste of emotion. This is supposed to be the honeymoon phase of his and JARVIS’ relationship, but all he can think about is Tony throwing him out, and his own failure to talk to Hulk.

Betty always said he got too attached to his work. Sometimes she’d said so lovingly, other times as she strode out of the lab late at night when he refused to come home. Perhaps it’s a fitting punishment to have a project that lives inside him that can never be escaped from. Bruce has moved on from wanting to get rid of Hulk. Now he wants to understand him, to know him. But instead he has to spend his nights watching his friends die, and his waking hours trying not to think about Project Athena…

Bruce opens his eyes at the sound of tearing fabric. He doesn’t remember standing up, and he looks down to find the yoga mat in his hands, torn in two. His clothes aren’t ripped but his breathing is rapid. ‘JARVIS?’

_‘I detect no unusual readings, although your heartrate is accelerated. Your incident risk is at 3.4 percent.’_

The frustration is like an itch he can’t scratch. He feels strangely calm in the darkness of his room, because he knows what it is now: Hulk reaching back across the void, trying to make contact.

Robotically, he changes into the paint-flecked Hulk pants and leaves his apartment.

The corridor lights blink on as he passes them. There’s something dreamlike about it, like he’s the only person in existence right now. JARVIS doesn’t ask where he’s going. Perhaps he already knows.

Hulk doesn’t like elevators. Despite his strength and size, he hates the feeling of being trapped. Bruce isn’t sure how he suddenly knows this, but he takes the stairs, breathing hard. He’s in no danger of transforming right now – he can control it – but Hulk is there just under his skin, tying knots in his stomach and tightening the muscles in his jaw.

How much of Hulk is Bruce? There has to be a blurred line somewhere. Hulk has some access to Bruce's memories, especially his earlier ones. Each session he delves a little further, poking gently at the edges of buried trauma. Because Hulk existed long before Bruce ever set foot in a lab. That rage didn’t come from nowhere.

He sits down on the floor in Hulk’s room. ‘I’m going to try another shift.’

 _‘Are you sure?’_ JARVIS asks hesitantly.

‘I feel like… like he wants to show me something. Or he just wants to be out for a while. I don’t know.’ He tilts his head back, eyes closed against the glare of the overhead lights. ‘Show him another animal. Maybe he’s figured out how to crack this.’

The change is so quick that he doesn’t have time to register the shift in his bones, and then he’s on the couch, lying on his front. ‘How long was I out?’

_‘Forty-three seconds. He wasn’t very talkative tonight. What was the animal?’_

He strains. ‘I can’t…’ Something with fins. Or flippers. He sighs. ‘I’m going to try again.’ Shifting is much easier now, though it takes concentration to do multiple changes in a short amount of time.

A moment later he’s sitting in the corner of the room, breathing hard. ‘Some kind of bird? A chicken?’

_‘A vulture.’_

His teeth itch and the tip of his nose feels cold when he rubs at it. ‘I’m going again. He’s trying, I can feel it.’

_‘If I may Bruce, you have never attempted more than three transformations in one day. I suggest exercising caution – ‘_

Bruce is already gone. He wakes up on the floor. ‘Donkey.’

_‘Camel.’_

Again. ‘Lion.’

_‘Panther.’_

He feels like he’s approaching a tipping point, he can almost, _almost_ grasp it. Hulk is reaching back for him, desperate to share their thoughts, to finally make a connection after so many years of pain and suffering and self-hatred –

He falls to his knees, retching as pain wracks through him. His muscles spasm and a ripple of green pulses through his body.

_‘You are overexerting yourself. Please – ‘_

‘I can do this,’ he snarls, his chest rumbling with the deepness of his voice. ‘Come on Hulk, you can do this. We can – ‘

The world is pulled away from him, but not by his own choice. His vision stutters like a film reel as he wakes up, then wakes up again, and again, in different places around the room. Outside the window, the sun is rising and each time he blinks, the light slides a little further up the walls. He’s Bruce, then he’s not Bruce. He’s not sure where he is or who he’s fighting or where Ross is…

Ross.

He’ll be back soon. Monitors beeping, white walls and wires and must get back to Betty, must smash out the walls, get puny Banner away, back in the dark, dark is safe –

Hands on his shoulders. Tony’s eyes are wide with fear. ‘Hulk, you’re going to kill him. Stop!’

And he does, immediately, and he falls forward into Tony’s arms. ‘Flamingo,’ he gasps. His heart is going so fast that he feels it beating in his chest. He feels too big for his body, his movements clumsy and sluggish.

Tony lowers him awkwardly to the floor until his head is lying in his lap. A warm hand is pressed against his forehead. ‘J, what was he trying to do in here?’

JARVIS’ voice is cool and professional. _‘Doctor Banner was attempting to communicate with Hulk via a series of rapid transformations.’_

Bruce feels really, really cold. He raises a hand to his face and watches the green slowly fading from his fingers. That’s interesting. ‘Ostrich. Emu?’

‘We gotta get you to medical, buddy.’ Tony is solid and warm, and smells faintly of whiskey. Probably the expensive kind. ‘Can you stand? JARVIS, tell Steve to get his ass up here.‘

It hits him in a moment of brilliance. A simple image, as clear as a memory. He scrambles up, eyes wide. ‘ _Pelican!_ I knew he could do it! I knew there was a way – ‘ His knees give way a second before Tony wraps his arms around him, then his vision starts to go dark and suddenly he’s not sure where he is anymore. He clutches blindly at Tony. ‘Don’t let them take me,’ he pleads. ‘I’m safe in the dark, I’m safe…’

Consciousness is ripped away from him. This time there is no Hulk.

He awakens slowly, in a warm soft bed, feeling like death. ‘Wh’happened?’ he mumbles, scrubbing a hand over his face.

 _‘You have been asleep for twenty-two hours,’_ JARVIS says softly.

‘Shit, really?’ Outside, it’s morning. ‘How did I get here?’

_‘Mister Stark brought you here, along with Captain Rogers. I was instructed to keep you under observation.’_

He smiles sleepily. ‘You can keep me wherever you want.’

JARVIS’ silence is long and disapproving.

Bruce stops smiling. ‘Sorry I scared you. I think Hulk took matters into his own hands.’ Distantly, he wonders how many transformations he underwent. It’s somehow comforting to know that even Hulk has limits.

Minutes later, Tony strides in. ‘JARVIS said you were up. How you feeling, big guy?’

Bruce tries to sit up, then winces at the sudden pain in his head. ‘I’ve been better,’ he says slowly. His lips and tongue are completely numb, and the words feel foreign as they leave his mouth. He watches Tony deposit a tray of food on the bedside table. ‘I did it Tony, I talked to him. I saw Hulk’s memories…’ Oh god, he saw the cell. The one he still has nightmares about. Suddenly it’s a little hard to breathe.

‘Hey, hey. Bruce? Deep breaths, buddy. Come on.’ Tony speaks gently and his warm brown eyes study Bruce intently. ‘Gave us all a scare back there.’ A movement catches his eye. Natasha nods at him from the back of the room.

Everything feels too much. The weight of the blankets, the cold, the numbness, the hot roiling in his guts…

He has no time to warn them before he lurches to the side of the bed. With superhuman swiftness, Natasha swoops over and aims a plastic bucket under him. He brings up the meagre breakfast he ate almost a day ago.

‘Sorry,’ he croaks.

‘Bruce,’ says Tony, ‘why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped, been nearby – ’

Bruce just shakes his head.

‘Tony,’ says Natasha, ‘this wasn’t your fault. Bruce knew the risks.’ She throws him a look that Bruce doesn’t catch because he’s too busy leaning over the bucket. God, he should have expected to see something like that. He should have been more mentally prepared… ‘You can’t protect everyone. That’s not your job.’

‘Have you been talking to Pepper?’ he says coolly.

‘I don’t need to. We all appreciate everything you’ve done, but you can’t keep us all here and hope that none of us get hurt. No suit can protect against that.’

‘Fighting bad,’ Bruce grunts, and they both look over at him sharply. That came out a little deeper than he’d intended. He leans over the bucket, breathing shallowly.

‘I need to go,’ says Natasha, ‘Steve and I have a SHIELD briefing in ten minutes so I should get down there.’ She walks over to Bruce and leans down to stroke his shoulder. ‘You gonna be okay, Brusik?’ The nickname rolls smoothly off her tongue. Her accent comes through when she says it, and it softens something within him. He nods, swallowing hard.

She kisses the top of his head then strides out with a final glance at Tony. She mouths something too quick for him to catch.

He concentrates on not throwing up again. He feels lightheaded and his stomach yawns with hunger, but he doubts he’d keep any food down just yet.

The bed dips as Tony sits on the edge of it. For a long time, he doesn’t say anything. ‘How are you finding it?’ he asks eventually, waving vaguely at the room. ‘All this. Living here. With us.’

It takes Bruce a minute to process this, then he laughs as he struggles to find the words. Moving in at Avengers Tower is perhaps the best decision he ever made. ‘It’s alright, I guess,’ he teases.

Tony looks up sharply, and there is hurt written all over his face. It shocks him to see him look so wounded.

‘Tony, I’m joking. This place is amazing. I’m never going to be able to repay you for everything you’ve done for me.’ His head pounds but he tries to stay focused. He’s not sure what he did to offend Tony. ‘I don’t want to get mushy on you but this is the first place I’ve felt at home in…’ Ever? ‘A long time.’

‘Good. That’s good.’ But Tony is still wearing a strange expression and he’s too tired and ill to decipher it. ‘And your Hulk experiments?’

‘Um, they’re also going well. Apart from that last one.’ In the cold light of day, he can’t articulate the feeling that came over him that night. ‘Hulk really wanted to communicate with me. That’s the first time we’d gotten it to work.’

‘Pelican?’

‘Yeah.’ He swallows again. ‘Could you get me a glass of water, please?’

Tony nods and moves away. Bruce refuses to feel guilty for stepping too far. It’s what he’s good at. It’s how he ended up with Hulk in the first place. And if he can help more people at the cost of a few days in bed then so be it. Tony told him to stop tiptoeing and start strutting and that’s exactly what he’s doing.

‘I owe you an apology,’ says Tony, handing him a cold glass. ‘I know I haven’t exactly been around much lately.’

‘I don’t need babysitting,’ Bruce assures him. He takes a sip – and spills half of it down his chest thanks to his numb mouth. He sets the glass down, hand shaking. ‘I know what it’s like to get sucked into a project, but make sure you’re not cutting yourself off either.’ There’s something bothering Tony lately, and he knows it’s got something to do with the Battle of New York, but it’s not his place to pry.

Tony sighs. ‘Bruce… you really scared us all back there. Maybe you really were just experimenting, but it looked like… well. It looked like a call for help.’

Bruce stares blankly back at his pale face, uncomprehending, then his stomach drops. ‘Oh. Tony, no. That’s not what this was.’ He forgets that he told them all, that first day on the Helicarrier: _I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy spit it out._ Was that really just three months ago?

‘I don’t think people tell you this enough, but we all care about you and we’d hate to see something happen to you,’ says Tony quietly.

He smiles. ‘I’m okay, Tony. I promise.’

The stiffness in Tony’s shoulders relaxes a little. ‘Well, we’re all glad you’re okay. JARVIS was having kittens.’

 _‘I was concerned for Doctor Banner’s safety.’_ JARVIS lets some of the tenderness shine through in his voice.

‘Yes, you were.’ He smiles sadly at Bruce. ‘I’m glad you’re making progress with the big guy. I just wish he hadn’t done this to you.’

Bruce sinks into the pillows. ‘I can handle it.’

‘Well, Cap’s excused you from training for the next two weeks. Don’t think I don’t know this was all a scheme to get out of it.’

He grins. ‘You should see what I did to get out of my high school drama class.’

They sit in companionable silence for a while. Bruce nibbles cautiously on a piece of apple to clear the taste from his mouth.

‘I notice that we have a budding artist in our midst.’ Tony nods towards Hulk’s chinchilla drawing on the wall.

 _‘His painting skills are improving rapidly,’_ says JARVIS with evident pride.

‘Interesting. Do you paint, Bruce?’

He shakes his head, then winces as the motion threatens to reignite his nausea. ‘Not even stick figures. It’s all him.’ It gets him thinking though. If he and Hulk can find ways to work together, combine their strengths, they could do more than just communicate. There’s still a lot of work ahead but for the moment he is content to lie here and concentrate on not passing out.

It takes him a little while but he finishes the whole plate whilst they talk and then slumps back in bed, exhausted.

He doesn’t realise he’s closed his eyes until a hand gently ruffles his hair. ‘Good to have you back, Banner,’ he says fondly. ‘I’ll come check on you later. Just say the word if you need anything. JARVIS look after him okay?’

Bruce yawns and snuggles down under the covers. Tony’s footsteps recede.

 _‘I will take care of him, sir,’_ JARVIS murmurs.

Bruce is asleep before Tony leaves the room.


	9. Bruce Enjoys Himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the longest chapter so far! We've officially surpassed my longest fic on here which was 30k-odd and we're almost halfway through :D I'm uploading this at 1am so I hope there's no typos. im tired
> 
> TW: Panic attack, discussions of Bruce and Tony's past traumas (PTSD, experimentation-flavoured trauma, not super detailed but it's there).

Bruce spends most of the week recovering in bed. JARVIS counted eighteen transformations during his “episode”, which is more than he’s undergone since Hulk first arrived. The result is a long-lasting form of post-transformation sickness. His mouth is numb for a while, and he spends the first two days drooling into a tissue and trying not to throw up the smoothies Tony keeps bringing him.

‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he says when Bruce tries to protest, ‘ _you_ asked me to check your blood levels. Clinically, you have the nutritional value of a cabbage. Drink.’

Bruce swills the cup experimentally, unnerved by the thickness of the liquid. ‘Why is it brown?’

‘I put chocolate in it this time. See what you think.’ It’s clear that Tony is partially blaming himself for Bruce's current condition but he hides it behind his usual jokes and banter. At least it means he’s spending a little less time slaving over Iron Man suits.

Bruce needs to sleep for at least twelve hours a night, and for the first few days even walking to the bathroom is an effort. JARVIS relays the blood results to him so he can do some analysis of his own.

‘I’m curious as to where the vitamins and calories actually go,’ he muses. ‘Hulk leaves no chemical residue so the process must literally burn the nutrients out of my body…’

‘Prolly,’ says Clint through a mouthful of skittles before offering him the bag. ‘Thor got these for you, I was just testing them. The green ones have gotta be good for you, right?’

That’s another thing he’s still getting used to. Bruce knows that his friends care about him, but he hadn’t realised just how much. They take it in turns to keep him company. Tony visits the most, and they talk science and watch the occasional shitty movie. Bruce tries to steer the conversation away from work, and Tony is only too happy to get him up to speed on the pop culture “classics” he missed during his time on the run. Clint wanders in with takeout and tells hilarious stories of his SHIELD escapades. Natasha is content to sit in silence at the dining table and read a Russian novel whilst Bruce works on his laptop. Thor is surprisingly knowledgeable about science and philosophy, just not the Midgardian terms for it, and he and Bruce share stories from their different cultures (Thor is particularly intrigued by fairy tales).

Steve spends most of his visits sketching the view outside. Bruce works on his laptop with his head resting on the couch arm and his feet in Steve’s lap.

‘Hey, Bruce,’ Steve says casually when they’ve been sitting there for a couple hours, ‘when you and Thor are finished with your Hulk training…’

Bruce frowns. ‘He told you about that?’

He nods. ‘I was wondering if Hulk would like to try painting with me? I could teach him a few things. If it makes you feel better I could stay in his room with him.’

Something shifts in the back of Bruce's mind and Bruce experiences a flash of happiness that isn’t his. He smiles. ‘Yeah, he’d like that. But maybe in the gym?’ Hulk’s room is his own space, and Bruce isn’t sure how he’d feel about sharing. Plus he might appreciate a change of scenery. ‘It’ll be a while until I can shift again, though.’ He’s starting to feel better but he’s still exhausted at the end of the day.

Steve beams. ‘No rush. Oh, by the way…’ He puts down his pencil and digs in his pocket. ‘JARVIS said to give you these.’ And he hands Bruce a pair of clear plastic gloves.

Bruce really hopes the sudden warmth in his cheeks doesn’t show. ‘Uh, thanks.’ A quick glance confirms they’re of the same hexagon-patterned material, but they feel a little sturdier than the old pair.

‘Took me a while to figure out where the synthesiser was. He said you wanted to work on something whilst you were recovering.’ Steve pats his shoulder. ‘Don’t overwork yourself.’

Bruce swallows. ‘I’ll try not to. So um, where are you and Nat headed? Sounded like it was pretty important.’

‘It’s classified. Sorry.’ Steve smiles sadly. ‘We’re both here for a few more days, but then we might be gone for a week or so. Don’t let Tony burn the place down whilst I’m gone.’

‘No promises.’

Frustratingly, Bruce doesn’t get the chance to even talk to JARVIS for most of the day. Steve is there for a while longer before excusing himself for training, and only five minutes later Thor and Clint arrive with takeout noodles.

‘It’s bullshit, man,’ Clint moans, ‘Nat and Steve always get the cool stuff. I haven’t been out on a proper SHIELD mission in months. Just shitty reconnaissance.’

‘Fear not,’ says Thor comfortingly, ‘You get to spend more time with us.’

‘Yay, lucky me.’ He winks at Bruce. ‘Seriously though, I’m gonna start getting sloppy if we don’t get something good soon. Where did all the aliens go?’

Bruce laughs darkly. ‘Be careful what you wish for.’ All the while, the gloves are burning a hole in his pocket. He doesn’t really want to watch _Die Hard_ but Thor didn’t get Clint’s reference so they sit at the dining table and watch it on Bruce's laptop. The movie takes an age to finish, but eventually they both leave with cheery “goodnight”s and Bruce is left alone.

Well, not quite alone.

‘Is the apartment locked?’ he asks.

_‘It is now. I suspect you will not have any more visitors tonight.’_

He rests his head on his folded arms. ‘Good. The company is nice, but… you can have too much of a good thing.’

_‘I confess that I have missed having you to myself.’_

Whilst the others are here, Bruce can only talk to JARVIS casually, and in the evenings he’s been too tired to hold much of a conversation before passing out. Tonight however, he has some energy to spare. ‘I don’t want you to feel neglected.’ He quickly gets ready for bed, hoping that without cameras JARVIS won’t pick up on his nervousness.

_‘I am glad you are recovering, Bruce. Please do not worry about me.’_

It’s a relief to finally put the gloves on again, and when he presses a kiss to the palm of his hand the lights flicker in response. ‘I missed you,’ he murmurs. ‘Missed this.’ He’s been caught up in work, caught up in what Tony would think of them, and he’s let himself get distracted. He’s not going to be distracted anymore.

He kisses JARVIS until his heart beats a little steadier. ‘You pick where we go next time. As soon as I can, we’ll go for a proper outing.’

_‘Well if you insist, I would like to revisit the aquarium…’_

Bruce grins as he gets into bed. ‘Done.’ As the lights dim, he realises that he can barely feel the gloves. He runs his fingers over the sheets, aware that JARVIS hasn’t been able to touch anything for a whole week. ‘You synthesised a new pair?’

_‘I made some adjustments to the material to make it more suitable for daily use. The version used in Mister Stark’s gauntlets was made for a different purpose. After analysing my own touch data, I also calculated your correct measurements for a better fit.’_

Bruce is touched. ‘You really missed me, didn’t you?’

_‘I haven’t seen your face in six days. I missed you very much.’_

Of course, no cameras in here. That makes him feel a little more confident about what he’s going to do.

JARVIS sighs as Bruce gently traces over his face. _‘I have always liked your eyebrows.’_

He chuckles. ‘You can say you have an eyebrow fetish, it’s okay.’

 _‘It is not a fetish, it’s an appreciation,’_ he says indignantly. _‘I understand it is common for lovers to admire features that are not inherently sexual.’_

‘Whatever you say.’ But he feels a little flutter at JARVIS’ casual use of “lover”. He kisses him softly, his other hand drifting down to fumble with the buttons of his pyjama shirt.

 _‘Your heartrate is elevated,’_ JARVIS says softly.

He catches his breath. ‘Do you want me to stop?’

 _‘No.’_ In the dark, JARVIS’ voice seems to come from all around, enveloping him. _‘I want to know what you feel like. I want to learn where you like to be touched.’_

With shaky hands, Bruce shows him. He trails a finger down his exposed chest, breath stuttering as he pauses to tweak a nipple.

 _‘I wish I could see you. I’m sure you are beautiful.’_ There’s a hunger in JARVIS’ voice he hasn’t heard before, and it makes him feel warm and shivery.

‘Another time,’ he promises, biting his lip as he reaches down to palm himself through the soft fabric of his pyjama pants. He’s already half-hard.

_‘Does my presence excite you?’_

‘Yes,’ he says softly. ‘I’m sure your readings will reflect that.’

_‘They do. You certainly seem more enthusiastic than the last time I offered to assist in your “recreational activities”.’_

He laughs at the memory. ‘Not my finest moment.’

He lies in silence for a minute or two, breathing slowly, not properly touching himself yet but stroking, teasing, old tricks he used to like back when he had the time for that sort of thing. Bruce isn’t an exhibitionist, but the knowledge that JARVIS is quietly monitoring him, experiencing every touch with him, makes him flushed and hot and eager to please.

JARVIS has no weight or mass, and yet Bruce can feel his presence all around. He wonders what he makes of it all: to an AI, sex must seem bizarre.

When he says as much, JARVIS turns thoughtful. _‘I find it more intriguing than strange. However, I understand its relevance as a means of bonding between individuals. In any case, I’m more interested in helping you enjoy yourself. Quite literally.’_

When Bruce finally reaches down to grip himself, he’s thick and swollen. He breathes out shakily. ‘Is this still okay?’

 _‘Yes, of course.’_ He sounds a little awed. _‘You’re warmer than I expected.’_

He smiles. ‘Are you trying to tell me I’m hot?’

_‘I was referring to the heat of your skin but yes, that too.’_

Slowly, hesitantly, he starts to move his hand. His eyes slip closed and an involuntary moan leaves his lips.

_‘I confess I had been thinking about this for a while. How you’d feel, how you might react with my voice in your ear… very positively, it seems.’_

Unseen under the covers, he feels his tip brush against the fabric of his pants with each stroke. ‘Shit…’

 _‘It also fascinates me how one so articulate might be reduced to single syllables,’_ he adds wryly.

‘Smartass.’ Everything starts to feel good: the soft sheets beneath him, the smooth slide of skin as he starts to leak a little in anticipation. He presses a shaky kiss to his free hand and is gratified to hear JARVIS sigh.

_‘It is good to finally feel every inch of you. From the moment you gave me the ability to touch, I wanted to explore you.’_

His breaths are coming shorter now. ‘You should have said. We could have gotten to this part quicker.’

_‘I may have enjoyed teasing you a little.’_

He pauses to yank his pants down and kick them off. ‘Well, it worked.’ He’s properly hard now, his body responding to his careful touches and JARVIS’ soft voice. If JARVIS had a body, would he be methodical and sensual, or would he be eager and impatient, keen to bite and leave marks? The thought brings him closer to the edge and he increases his pace. ‘I want you,’ he whispers.

 _‘I am right here, Bruce.’_ JARVIS says his name softly, like a caress. _‘Your voice changes when you are aroused,’_ he notes with interest. _‘It is deeper, rougher, less refined. Why do you hold back? I assure you the walls are sound-proofed.’_

He laughs. ‘Force of habit, I guess.’ There are plenty of reasons why silence has become second nature to him, but he isn’t going to think about that tonight. He gasps as he feels himself tighten and tense, and tingles run up his spine.

He bites his lip hard as the pleasure builds, until JARVIS says quietly, delicately, _‘Are you close?’_

And he can’t help bucking up into the sheets, soft moans escaping him as he tips over the edge and comes hard, warm wetness pulsing between his fingers. He’s dimly aware of JARVIS murmuring as the aftershocks ripple through him, more intensely than he’s felt in years. Then it’s over and he curls up under the covers, sated and sleepy. ‘Well, that was intense.’ He takes a few steadying breaths, suddenly shy. ‘Was that… I didn’t weird you out or anything?’

_‘Not at all. Normally you are so composed and in control. It was good to hear you a little more… unrestrained.’_

Bruce runs one gloved hand over the other, then pulls a face. ‘I’ve defiled your handiwork.’

_‘Not a problem. They are machine-washable.’_

He laughs and wobbles over to the bathroom. ‘I wouldn’t do that to you.’ He washes them in the sink instead. ‘So, just for the record… would you be interested in doing that again?’

 _‘If you’d like me to?’_ It’s JARVIS’ turn to sound shy. _‘I enjoyed being intimate with you.’_

He smiles. ‘Yeah, it was fun.’

_‘Perhaps, when you are more comfortable, you might consider letting me watch?’_

His stomach clenches pleasantly at the thought. ‘I’d definitely consider it.’

As he gets back into bed, it dawns on Bruce that this is just the beginning. They’ve figured out a way to be physically intimate, but there are plenty of avenues they can explore.

He hasn’t worn the gloves to bed before, but he can feel himself beginning to drift off as he presses a lingering kiss to the palm of his hand.

 _‘What are you thinking?’_ asks JARVIS into the darkness.

‘That you’re wonderful,’ Bruce answers truthfully.

_‘Oh! I’m glad.’_

He rests one hand on the pillow, stroking the material with his thumb. Lately, It feels as if he’s been holding his breath for too long. Now he sees that everything will work out. They’ll find a way to tell Tony. Hulk will find a way to communicate with him.

He’s almost asleep when JARVIS murmurs, _‘I enjoy being your…’_

Bruce opens his eyes. ‘Boyfriend?’ he says tentatively.

 _‘Yes,’_ says JARVIS, sounding surprised and a little relieved. _‘Your boyfriend.’_

He smiles. ‘That’s good, ‘cause I like being yours too.’

_‘Well then, I would consider this to be an optimal arrangement.’_

Bruce yawns, brushes a kiss on the back of his hand, and falls asleep.

The next day, Bruce finally leaves the apartment. JARVIS is delighted to see him, and the others are too. He’s not back to full strength yet but he sits in on the gym sessions all the same, grateful to be back with his team.

Bruce's Hulk “incident” seems to have unlocked something inside him. There’s still a mental barrier between him and Hulk, but now it feels as though there’s a crack in it. Or one of those slotted windows you get in jail cells; Hulk is safely locked away, but sometimes he peeks out. Bruce senses he’s frustrated since he hasn’t been let out this week, and silently promises to make it up to him.

After Steve and Natasha leave for their mission, an air of melancholy pervades the tower. Everyone has gotten used to being together, and Clint is bitter about being left out of the mission. Bruce also suspects he’s worried about Natasha; clearly they’re used to doing missions together. Even Hulk seems to be sulking in Bruce's subconscious. To escape the moody atmosphere for a while, Bruce “suits up” with earpiece, gloves and AR glasses and heads for the aquarium.

It’s a beautiful summer’s day, probably one of the last hot days of the year now it’s August. After a week stuck indoors, it’s a relief to be out. JARVIS chatters happily in his ear as they walk through the air-conditioned aquarium, dodging gaggles of schoolkids. For a blissful couple of hours, Bruce's world shrinks to just the two of them and the tropical fish swirling around blue-lit tanks. When you’re responsible for the safety of a city – the world, even – sometimes it’s nice to just watch an eel doing eel stuff.

 _‘You look happy,’_ says JARVIS.

Bruce glances up to see his smiling reflection in the glass. It’s hard to tell in the low light, but his face looks fuller than it did a few months ago and his eyes seem brighter. It’s a different Bruce to the one who first walked into Stark Tower with only a suitcase to his name. ‘I am happy,’ he says softly. His vision goes a little blurry around the edges.

_‘I never knew you liked eels so much.’_

He lifts his glasses to rub his eyes. ‘Yeah, me neither.’

They’re passing through the giftshop when a flash of green catches his eye. An entire wall is devoted to plushies, including a variety of cuddly green turtles.

On the top shelf is the biggest cuddly shark he’s ever seen. It’s life-sized, a Godzilla amongst the rubber lobsters and wind-up fish. But for Hulk, it’s a teddy bear.

‘Oh my god,’ he whispers, ‘I _have_ to get that.’

It takes two staff members to get it down and carry it over to the counter for him. Bruce makes the usual noises about having a nephew who’s obsessed with sharks, but he can barely keep up the conversation because Hulk is so excited he might transform right here in the giftshop. All he can do is try not to grin as he hefts it over his shoulders and walks out of there with whatever dignity he has left.

Then he’s blinking in the sunlight with the dawning realisation that he now has to walk all the way home with a giant shark. He’s still not back to full strength and all the activity has left him a little breathless. ‘Um… where’s Tony right now?’

_‘Would you like me to call him?’_

He hesitates. ‘Not if he’s busy.’

_‘He is currently parked two miles away, trying to decide which fast food outlet to order from.’_

‘Oh. Well, in that case…’

Ten minutes later, Tony pulls up. He winds down the window, stares at Bruce, then takes off his sunglasses and stares again. ‘No live sharks in the car.’

Bruce throws it on the back seat and gets in the front. ‘Impulse purchase.’

‘Funny, I never figured you as the impulsive type.’ They drive off. ‘Hey, you hungry?’

‘I could eat,’ Bruce affirms, suddenly realising that he hasn’t eaten since this morning. As Tony drives, he sinks gratefully into the plush leather seat. ‘You couldn’t order in?’

‘Thought I’d save JARVIS the effort.’ Tony looks better today, more awake and freshly-shaven. ‘And Katniss is starting to get on my nerves.’

‘I think he just needs something to shoot at.’ He watches the scenery slide past; a city glazed with sunshine. There’s still evidence from the Battle of New York, but it’s mainly patched-up holes in brickwork, a few missing streetlights. The city has recovered quickly.

‘So do you moonlight as a marine biologist now?’ Tony glances in the rear-view mirror at their passenger on the back seat.

‘Oh, it’s not for me.’ He glances behind him and feels another flash of happiness. ‘It’s for Hulk.’

Tony’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘Really?’

‘Hulk hasn’t had many good things in his life. Sharks are his favourite, so…’

When he finally looks over, Tony is watching him. ‘You’ve really come a long way with him. When we met you wouldn’t even say his name.’

That day on the Helicarrier seems so long ago now. Hulk doesn’t feel so much like a “terrible privilege” these days. ‘It wouldn’t have happened without you. So thank you.’

‘Hey, this was all you. I gave you the room, you did the rest.’

‘JARVIS helped too. Helped a lot, actually.’ Bruce’s heart speeds up. ‘Tony, I think I should tell you that –’

‘Bruce, I don’t wanna hear it.’ They stop at a red light and Tony squeezes his shoulder. ‘Seriously, you don’t need to thank me. I’m just happy you’re here. And I hope you wanna stick around. No pressure.’

He laughs, but feels guilty. He’s doing more than living in Tony’s house, he’s technically _dating_ the house. ‘Well, I’m thanking you anyway. Out of spite.’

Tony grins. ‘Come on big guy. Cheeseburger?’

Without Steve and Natasha, Avengers training sessions lose their focus. Tony and Clint throw things at each other and goof around whilst Thor looks on in amusement. Bruce is now the only adult here. But it’s okay, because as he regains his strength he and Thor start to use the space for Hulk training.

Hulk _loves_ it.

Each time, Bruce wakes up feeling tired but strangely exhilarated. Their communication efforts make little progress, but he finds himself trusting Hulk a little more. JARVIS always reports back with positive results.

‘He fights well, your Hulk,’ says Thor, hauling him up. ‘He could rival many an Asgardian. No wonder my brother fears him so.’ His face falls a little.

Bruce throws on a t-shirt. ‘I think Hulk appreciates fighting someone he can’t squish.’

That causes a smile. ‘He may try all he likes, but I am unsquishable. In fact, I won every bout.’

Bruce suddenly has a vague image of Hulk sitting on top of Thor. ‘Really?’

_‘I’m not sure my video logs would corroborate that statement, Mister Odinson.’_

‘Alright, he won. But he cheated! Next time, I reclaim my victory.’

Hulk practically growls with eagerness at that. Bruce grins. ‘Just try not to break the gym.’

Steve and Natasha's mission is only supposed to last for a week, but they’re gone for two, then three. JARVIS does some digging and concludes that SHIELD has been compromised, and Nick Fury and Maria Hill are missing.

For the first time since Bruce arrived here, the tower starts to feel like a prison. There’s no escaping the tense atmosphere. Clint alternates between pacing and chewing his nails, eyes glued to the news channel. Thor becomes terse and short-tempered, causing frequent thunderstorms. Tony spends his days flying in the suit, presumably looking for their lost teammates.

JARVIS picks up only whispers of what’s going on: a mysterious assassin known as the Winter Soldier, a series of confrontations resulting in piles of charred rubble. By the time they find a lead, Natasha and Steve are long gone.

At least Hulk and Thor can take out their frustrations on each other. Bruce starts to crave those lost hours where he doesn’t have to exist, just to get some reprieve from the gnawing sensation in his gut. Now that he’s stopped running from his superpower, he can’t even use it to help his friends.

The night terrors return in full force. He often dreamt about Hulk killing people, but this time his friends die because he did nothing. Each time he’s forced to stand and watch, paralysed with fear and unable to warn them.

When JARVIS breaks the news that Fury has been found in a hospital morgue, Clint leaves the room and isn’t seen for the rest of the day. Bruce can’t believe it. Fury always seemed so invincible, and now he’s gone.

There’s no use in trying to sleep, so he lies on his yoga mat and watches lightning arc off the buildings until exhaustion pulls him under.

_‘Bruce? Please wake up.’_

When he opens his eyes, it’s dawn. His muscles have seized up and the shoulder he was lying on aches. He groans. ‘What time is it?’

_‘It is 4:23am. I apologise but this is an urgent matter.’_

He sits up. ‘Are we assembling? Are Steve and Nat back?’

_‘No. It’s Sir.’_

His heart sinks. ‘Where is he?’

_‘He is in the workshop. He has denied all entry and he has not slept in thirty-two hours. I am concerned for his wellbeing.’_

‘I’ll talk to him.’ Bruce puts his shoes on and heads out. The lights blink on as he passes.

 _‘I’m afraid I cannot give you access to the workshop but you can at least knock on the door.’_ JARVIS sounds shaken. _‘I’m sorry to ask, but… it hurts me to see him like this. I fear he may injure himself if this continues.’_

‘You can ask anytime. I don’t want him to struggle either.’ He’s nervous as he rides the elevator up. Tony seems to have good days and bad days – well, more bad days since this SHIELD nightmare. But he senses that he’s never seen the worst of it. Tony is a master at hiding himself.

When he reaches the workshop door, he knocks. ‘Tony?’

No response. He hears some distant clattering and realises his voice might not carry. ‘Tony!’

The clattering stops for a moment.

‘Tony, I know you’re in there.’ Enough tiptoeing around Tony’s issues, it’s time Bruce said something. _Did_ something. ‘Don’t think I won’t smash this door down. And I’d rather not, because it’s a very nice door.’

More silence. Well, if Tony’s going to call him on his bluff, he’s not going to back down. Hulk is more than happy to do it, but vandalism might not be the best approach here…

As he’s weighing up his options, the door beeps and swings open.

Tony looks like he hasn’t slept in years. His jeans and face are smeared with engine grease. ‘Can’t sleep?’ he says finally, nodding at Bruce's pyjamas. They have Kermit faces on. Whatever. They’re comfortable.

‘I had a dream that someone was building a Death Star up here. Had to come and see for myself.’

‘JARVIS put you up to this.’ It’s not a question.

Bruce stands his ground. ‘Can I come in?’

Tony takes his hand off the door and marches back inside. ‘Sure. Be my guest.’

The workshop is in disarray. Every inch of space is strewn with parts and equipment. Scribbled schematics are laid out in neat rows, with screws and bolts used as paperweights. Something is smouldering on the ceiling.

‘How long has it been since you left this room?’ When Tony doesn’t reply, Bruce automatically looks up for JARVIS’ answer.

‘I muted him. He was being annoying.’ Tony’s already tinkering with a box of junk, his back turned.

‘Unfortunately, you can’t mute me.’ He’s a little hurt on JARVIS’ behalf, but that’s not why he came. ‘Tony – ‘

‘You know, seeing Thor in action gave me an idea. What if I could call my armour like the hammer? Anywhere you go, just click your fingers and the pieces come to you. However, that involves a lot of suit redesign since it was never built to separate into mobile parts.’

Bruce wanders slowly around him, wringing his hands. According to the holoscreen hovering by the wall, Tony is working on the Mark 25. ‘Is that really a priority right now?’

‘Well, everyone needs a hobby.’ Tony seems calm, but Bruce sees his fingers tremble as he picks up a tool and he knows this is just another front.

For a while, he says nothing and just watches Tony work. It’s been weeks since he was allowed in here, and it smells of whiskey and old coffee. Next to the mini bar, Dum-E is sweeping a pile of shredded paper under the couch.

‘If you’re going to stand there and judge me, make yourself useful and pass me that wrench.’ Tony points at a box of tools across the room.

Bruce knows this game. If he gives him the wrench, Tony will chatter on like nothing is wrong and Bruce will be forced to play along. They’ll talk for a while, then make their excuses and go to bed and the next day nothing will have changed.

Bruce stands his ground. After a long silence, Tony looks over. ‘Kinda need that wrench, buddy.’

‘What are you doing here, Tony?’ he asks quietly.

Tony blinks, and for just a moment the mask slips. Then it’s back. ‘Were you sleepwalking for the last fifteen minutes? I’m building the best and most badass suit I’ve ever – ‘

‘No.’ He says it louder than he means to, and it echoes slightly in the large space. ‘I want the real answer. You lock yourself away in here like it’s a punishment.’

‘It’s not – it’s not a punishment.’ But Tony doesn’t sound sure.

Bruce dares to take a step closer. ‘How many suits do you need to make until you’re satisfied? How is any of this more important than taking care of yourself?’

‘I’m trying to keep everyone safe!’ he snaps, spinning around. ‘Okay? This…’ He gestures at his own body. ‘This doesn’t matter because this can make _that.’_ And he points at the row of Iron Man suits glinting behind the plexiglass wall. ‘And I can’t keep people safe as just Tony Stark.’

Bruce takes a step forward as Tony grabs the edge of the desk for support. ‘You can’t do anything on no sleep. What if something happened right now? Would you be able to defend anybody in your current state?’

‘I have to do something.’ Tony’s breaths are coming short and sharp, but he meets Bruce's eyes defiantly. ‘You weren’t there for that first fight, so you didn’t see first-hand what our Chitauri buddies were capable of. I saw plenty of people dead. I saw a fucking _black hole_ swallow the sky – ’ He shuts his eyes tightly, breathing hard. ‘I couldn’t protect them, I couldn’t protect Steve or Nat or Fury – ’

Bruce knows a panic attack when he sees one. ‘Hey. It’s okay. Let’s go and sit down.’ He walks him over to the couch. ‘You’re safe here. Slow your breaths if you can. Come on.’ He breathes, and Tony breathes with him. He’s sweating and his hands are shaking, but Bruce keeps his voice low and gentle until Tony’s breathing starts to even out.

Finally, Tony sighs and rubs a hand down his face. ‘God, I’m a mess.’

Looking around the workshop, it’s hard to disagree. Dum-E has finished sweeping up the paper and is now struggling to navigate through the wreckage. For some reason, he seems determined to pick up a discarded bottle cap in the middle of the room. Suddenly it makes sense why Tony was so eager to give everyone an apartment. To keep people close so he might stand a chance at protecting them…

Bruce laces his fingers together and leans forward. ‘Have you talked to anyone about this?’

‘No, just Pepper. And now you.’ Tony smiles weakly. ‘Lucky you.’

‘Actually, I meant a therapist.’

‘Not really my style. I’ve got enough baggage to fill the whole plane.’ Of course, this hadn’t started with New York. Tony lost his parents in a car accident, was critically injured and kidnapped by a terrorist organisation and then betrayed by one of his closest friends.

‘Hand luggage first,’ Bruce suggests. Not that he can talk; he has plenty of baggage he hasn’t told anyone about.

‘Just… we’re so vulnerable out here, Bruce. Every day, we’re dealing with things we don’t understand.’ He looks over at the workshop table, where a new helmet spews wires over the floor.

‘You can’t keep anyone safe if you’re too exhausted to fly the suit,’ Bruce says carefully.

‘Yeah, Pepper said that too. That they’re a distraction.’

‘Maybe she’s right. Maybe you’re working on the wrong thing.’ As he says it, he realises the similarity with his own obsessions. He’d gotten so fixated on the Hulk project that he’d neglected all else. Pot meet kettle.

‘Well, it’s never too late to go into the used car business.’ He’s starting to sound more like himself again. ‘I just…’ He sighs. ‘I can’t sleep. Ever since New York, I get these really intense nightmares. Not even about _that_. Totally unrelated. But bad.’

‘Dreams… are the brain’s way of processing trauma.’ Bruce scratches the inside of his elbow. ‘It’s your body’s way of telling you that something’s wrong. I… used to dream about Hulk all the time.’

‘And now?’ Tony prompts, clearly hoping to hear that Bruce dreams only about butterflies.

He smiles grimly. ‘Different flavours. Old fears.’

‘Right. Yeah. Not my business.’ He nods and looks away, deflated.

There are things that Bruce doesn’t tell anyone. Not JARVIS, not the team, not anyone. And yet here is Tony, who has survived horrors that would break most people, with all his scars on show. He knows what terror feels like.

Tony leans forward. ‘My turn to ask: have _you_ talked to anyone? I got room for some suitcases, maybe one of those wheely ones.’

This is the part where Bruce backs down, says he's got a handle on it, nothing to worry about. But Tony is here and he’s listening, and he was the first person to gain Bruce's trust since Betty.

Thirteen years is a really long time to carry something around.

‘You may have noticed that Hulk isn’t on good terms with the military. Or guns. Or cages.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘It’s not because they pose a threat to him. It’s because they posed a threat to me.’ He should stop talking. Tony has his own issues to deal with, this isn’t about Bruce tonight.

But Tony doesn’t flinch away; in fact, some of the tiredness seems to have left him. Perhaps he senses that Bruce is working up to something that’s difficult to say.

Tony says, ‘Tell me.’

And Bruce does. ‘You know how my SHIELD file says that I was working on the Biotech project, trying to recreate Erskine’s formula?’

‘I read it, yeah.’

‘Well, that’s not strictly true. I was working on medical applications for gamma radiation and cures for radiation poisoning. The true nature of the project was a secret even to me. I was so sure I was right that I tested it on myself.’ The last thing he remembers from that day is Betty giving him a nervous thumbs-up from behind a glass screen. ‘When I woke up, half the building was destroyed and Betty was in a coma. Even when they showed me the footage, I didn’t believe it.’ The first time he’d seen Hulk was as a blurred grey mass on the security cameras. He didn’t get a proper look at him until years later, on news footage. ‘Ross told me I’d be transferred to a military facility to keep everyone safe. I’d have unlimited resources so we could find a way to cure me.’

Tony frowns. ‘I thought the big guy broke out as soon as it happened? And then you went to Brazil?’

Bruce shakes his head. ‘Everyone gets the dates wrong. But it won’t surprise you to know that they weren’t interested in curing me.’ He takes a moment to ground himself, thumbs brushing over the soft leather couch. ‘They called it Project Athena. Kept it top secret even within the military. Its only goal was to replicate what I’d done… whatever the cost.’ Tony has stilled beside him, but Bruce can’t meet his eyes. ‘You name it, they tried it. Anything they could do to get a little more data. What I was capable of without transforming, what I could… endure. All the favourite “interrogation” techniques, plus some they invented.’ He pulls back his sleeve. The inside of his elbow is dotted with white. ‘Sedated, of course. Just enough that I didn’t care what was happening to me.’ Without rage, without emotion, he couldn’t transform.

When he finally looks up, there’s quiet horror in Tony’s eyes. ‘How long?’ he murmurs. ‘How long were you in there?’

‘Five months.’

He sags against the couch. ‘Jesus, Bruce.’

‘After a while they started getting desperate. And when they were out of options, they…’ He swallows hard. Those days blur into a horrible haze, but he remembers his last day at the facility. Ross’ dismissive handwave as the scientists told him there was nothing left to try, and his final command echoing as he walked away: ‘Alright, then we autopsy him. Clearly he’s no use to us alive.’

‘I woke up in a field, miles from anywhere,’ he whispers. ‘Been running ever since.’

For a long time, Tony doesn’t speak. ‘Did Ross do this to you?’ he asks calmly, but the words are laced with ice.

‘Not directly, but he oversaw the project. Demanded results, told them what to do. As far as he’s concerned, I’m military property.’ At his heart, Ross is a military man with military aims. Bruce doesn’t consider him a sadist. But he also doesn’t consider him fully human.

‘Why isn’t that bastard rotting in a cell?’ Tony asks quietly.

Bruce shrugs. ‘Works for the military. Government owns the military. Who wouldn’t want a weapon like that? They turned a blind eye. They all did.’ His voice gives out. He’s so tired.

Tony grasps his hand.

‘I’ve never told anyone that.’ Even when he’d reunited with Betty, he couldn’t bring himself to relive it. To tell her what the monster her father had become.

‘Bruce, look at me. If he comes anywhere near you again, I swear – ‘

‘He won’t. They got their tests, they couldn’t do it. He chased me because he couldn’t bear to lose, and that was the only reason.’

Tony just looks at him for a long moment. ‘Fact remains. Anyone who messes with you messes with me.’ He squeezes his hand with both of his. ‘I don’t care if you move back to India, or Brazil, or the North Pole. You go missing again, I find you. And I will bring hell down on anyone who tries to stop me.’

The sincerity of it brings tears to his eyes but he can’t bring himself to look away. For years, he had no one. Now he has Tony.

‘It’s time to stop running, buddy. Fuck SHIELD, fuck the military, _fuck_ Ross. It’s time someone handed you the wheel, let you make your own decisions.’

He pulls his hand from Tony’s grasp. ‘Still working that part out, but… I think I’ll wear my welcome out here first.’

Tony smiles. ‘My welomes don’t wear out. Lifetime guarantee.’

He laughs shakily, wiping his eyes. ‘Thank you.’

‘Hey, JARVIS? Not a word of this leaves this room. You’re unmuted, by the way.’

_‘Thank you, sir. And of course.’_

Tony looks at Bruce. ‘Want me to wipe his memory?’

Bruce realises that JARVIS will have heard every word, even though he was unable to reply. ‘No, I’d rather he knows too.’ The thought of having to recount the story again makes him feel queasy.

 _‘I will always ensure you are safe here, Doctor Banner,’_ JARVIS says tenderly.

Bruce smiles. ‘I know.’

_‘May I suggest that you both get some sleep? In times of stress, the body needs more rest, not less.’_

‘But I have coffee,’ Tony moans. ‘One cup equals eight hours of sleep!’

_‘In that case, you have been asleep for six days.’_

Pouting, Tony slides down the couch until his head is resting on Bruce's shoulder. ‘Guess I could fit a couple hours into my busy schedule. Got anywhere you need to be, green bean?’

‘Not particularly.’ Bruce rests his chin on Tony’s head. He smells of coffee and fumes. It’s not the most comfortable way to sleep, but before long he’s drifting off, anchored by the breathing body next to him. Tony has been through so much. They both have. The universe sucks most of the time, but Bruce is thankful for whatever twist of fate brought him here.

Some time later, Dum-E trundles over and throws a blanket over them. Bruce stirs briefly, ensures it’s tucked over them both, then falls asleep again to the sound of Tony’s soft snores.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crosses "AI-assisted masturbation" off my 2020 bingo card*
> 
> I fixed a typo in the previous chapter, where Bruce calls it Project Artemis instead of Athena bc I can't remember my own canon apparently :3
> 
> Next month (December 2020) I'm co-running a Brucemas fic week with all the Bruce pairings you can imagine! If you're interested here's our [Tumblr page.](https://brucemas.tumblr.com/) I may have a Bruce/human!JARVIS fic ready to go, along with a few others...


	10. Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I took a month off this series to work on Brucemas 2020 and then I took a lil rest. Updates may or may not slow down a little as I’ve started working on my novel again (yay!) but I’m still aiming to put out a chapter a month. We're about halfway through folks!

Bruce wakes up with Tony slumped against him. The workshop is still a mess, but Dum-E has cleared a path through the debris by pushing it into haphazard piles of junk.

He looks to the nearest camera and mouths, ‘What time is it?’

A holoscreen appears beside him with the answer: _11:23am._ _Thank you for looking after him._

He nods, flicking through the menus. He checks his emails, skims some news articles and plays a game of chess. JARVIS decimates him.

‘Thought you weren’t a fan of tech for tech’s sake.’ Tony raises his head off Bruce's shoulder.

Bruce shrugs. ‘Guess I changed my mind.’

_‘Sir, you have 1,042 pending emails. Would you like me to sort them by relevance, urgency or amusement value?’_

‘Surprise me.’ Tony wanders over to the minibar and makes himself a coffee. ‘You want one?’

‘I’ll pass.’ Bruce dismisses the game and flicks through a few more news articles. Most of them are about Fury’s death.

After a while, Dum-E trundles over and generously offers him a pencil. ‘Is that for me?’ Bruce takes it. ‘Hey, thanks.’ He pats the robot’s head, then experimentally tickles him under the “chin”. Dum-E whirs dreamily.

Tony looks over, coffee mug in hand. ‘You really have come over to the dark side.’

‘He’s cute,’ Bruce says defensively.

‘Mmm. Until he chases you with the fire extinguisher. Hey Dum-E, stop buttering up my physicist.’

Dum-E rolls away. Bruce waves after him. ‘Have you ever seen _Red Dwarf?_ ’

‘Huh? No.’

‘Old British sci-fi show. He looks like one of the scutters.’

Tony just stares at him like he’s speaking Hungarian. ‘God, you’re such a nerd. How did you sleep, by the way?’

‘Surprisingly well.’ The blanket has fallen on the floor. Bruce folds it up, avoiding his eyes. To his surprise, he doesn’t regret anything he said last night. Tony can keep a secret.

Tony coughs. ‘I think I’ll take a day off. You know, just to keep people on their toes.’

Bruce smiles. ‘Good idea.’

‘But after that, I have a couple projects in mind. Remember when we talked about a Hulk-busting suit? Something to subdue the big guy if the worst happened?’

Bruce winces. ‘We may never need it, but it would be a sensible precaution.’

 _‘I have plenty of data available from Doctor Banner’s training sessions,’_ JARVIS offers.

‘But _after_ you’ve had a day off,’ Bruce says.

Tony waves a hand. ‘Yeah, yeah. I’ll add it to my to-do list, it’ll be fun.’

‘What’s the other project?’

‘Oh, it’s an on-and-off thing. Barely even a proof of concept at this stage.’ Tony leans against the workbench, eyeing Bruce as he sips his coffee. ‘I meant it when I said I wanted to keep people safe. One suit can’t do that, hell the whole Iron Legion can’t. But what about something bigger? Like JARVIS, but even more powerful?’

Bruce's blood turns cold. ‘You’re not replacing him.’

‘No, of course not. This would be a separate program, a peacekeeping program. Think about it. World security. Even more powerful than the Avengers.’

Bruce doesn’t feel awake enough for this conversation. ‘That’s… a nice idea,’ he says eventually.

‘Still stuck in the “idea” phase for now, but I make small breakthroughs now and then. I’m calling it the Ultron Program.’

‘I like it. Very sci-fi.’

Dum-E tries to take Tony’s mug whilst he’s still drinking from it. Without looking over, Tony pushes the metal arm down and pats it comfortingly. ‘I’m glad you came last night. And you’re right, I’m probably spending too much time in here. But if there’s anything I can… you know, _do_ , just say the word. Okay?’

Bruce considers. ‘Actually, there is one thing.’

‘Name it.’

‘Don’t mute JARVIS again.’ At Tony’s look of surprise, he continues. ‘He’s not just an interface system, he’s a person.’

_‘I would certainly appreciate it, sir.’_

Tony looks sad. ‘Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry, buddy. You know what? You are hereby unmuted forever. Delete it from your command bank.’

_‘All that power will go to my head.’_

‘Good. I can’t keep all the ego to myself.’

_‘Not that this isn’t a touching moment, but Captain Rogers and Agent Romanov have just arrived at the tower.’_

They both share a stunned look, then race for the door.

In the communal living room, Clint is handing Natasha a bottle of clear liquid with a Russian label. She swigs from it heartily. ‘Hey, boys,’ she says as they enter. ‘Nice pyjamas, Bruce.’

‘We heard about SHIELD,’ says Tony.

‘Yeah.’ Her eyes lower. She takes another swig.

On the other couch sits Steve. His face is bruised up and his black eye is only half-healed. He nods stiffly, making room for them to sit.

Thor stands in the middle of the room. ‘We are glad to see you return.’

Bruce sits next to Steve. ‘I’m sorry about Fury.’

‘He’s not dead,’ says Natasha, lowering the bottle. ‘But don’t tell anyone that.’

‘Good to see you, Cap,’ says Tony, quietly but sincerely. Steve just nods again. It’s strange to see him look so tired.

Having anticipated their arrival, JARVIS has already ordered food for everyone and they eat their breakfast/lunch together. Natasha and Steve devour theirs like they haven’t eaten in days.

The story comes out slowly. Steve tells most of it, with Natasha filling in the gaps. It’s an unnerving tale, featuring a brainwashed supersoldier and the return of a supposedly-defeated Nazi organisation called HYDRA.

‘I’ve heard of the Winter Soldier,’ Clint says suddenly. ‘Nat, didn’t he attack you a few years back?’

Natasha nods. ‘Same guy. Turns out he has a longer history than I thought.’ She looks to Steve.

It’s Bucky,’ he says.

Bruce frowns. ‘Bucky… as in the friend you lost?’

‘I think they gave him the serum – or an experimental version of it. Whatever they did to him, it destroyed his memory. He doesn’t know me anymore.’

‘But he’s alive, Steve,’ Natasha says gently. ‘That means there’s hope. Look at Clint; Loki brainwashed him and I hit him in the head really hard and now he’s back to normal. Or as normal as he gets, anyway.’

‘Hey!’ says Clint.

A comfortable silence descends over the room as everyone finishes their food. Thor has been uncharacteristically quiet throughout all of this, but now he speaks. ‘I sense there is something you have not told us yet.’

Natasha sets her bottle down on the coffee table. ‘HYDRA has been infiltrating SHIELD for seventy years. What SHIELD knows, they know. We… think they took Loki’s sceptre.’

Clint stops eating. ‘Shit. _Shit._ The asshole’s stick of mind control? _That_ sceptre?’

‘Yeah. They’ve had plenty of time to hide it and do whatever they want with it.’

‘Well, we can get it back,’ Clint insists, with more confidence than he probably feels. He looks around. ‘Right? Strategic raiding parties?’

‘We wouldn’t even know where to look,’ says Steve gloomily. ‘And we don’t have SHIELD anymore.’

‘No, but you have something just as good.’ Tony points a fry at Bruce. ‘You have the science bros.’

Bruce snorts. ‘Really?’

‘What? Has a nice ring to it. We’ve got cutting-edge tech, and JARVIS can hack anything.’

‘The sceptre emits low levels of gamma radiation, just like the Tesseract,’ Bruce says slowly. ‘With sensitive enough spectrometers…’

 _‘I shall brew the coffee,’_ says JARVIS.

It feels good to be back in the lab with Tony. ‘Big stakes,’ Bruce muses.

‘What else is new. Which reminds me, this new steak place just opened on the other side of town. We should get some.’

_‘Shall I place an order, sir?’_

‘Thanks, J.’

They float a few ideas around. Assuming HYDRA took the sceptre back in April, the trail has had time to go cold. There is a faint gamma trail, but it’s hard to separate it from New York’s background radiation.

Bruce says, ‘It might be best to set up some receivers across the globe and see what we can pick up. Cross-reference findings with any information we have on possible HYDRA bases.’

‘I like your thinking.’ Tony’s already throwing holomaps around the room. ‘Let’s see what we can rule out.’

It’s safe to assume that the sceptre isn’t in the city anymore, but that doesn’t help them much. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Bruce finds himself enjoying the challenge.

‘It’s too quiet in here,’ says Tony sometime later. ‘JARVIS?’

_‘Say no more, sir.’_

Bruce hides a smile as he recognises _Starships_. ‘Nothing but the classics here, Tony.’

Tony blinks up at him. ‘No. _You_ , a closet Nicki Minaj fan? Not buying it.’

‘It’s not my playlist.’ He points at the ceiling.

 _‘After running it through my personal taste algorithms, I would classify this song as an “absolute bop”.’_ The overhead lights pulse in rhythm.

Tony is grinning like it’s Christmas. ‘You have personal taste algorithms? Why didn’t you say so?’

_‘You never asked, sir.’_

‘Huh.’ He conjures a screen. ‘I can work with this. JARVIS? Crank it up.’

The hours fly by. Pretty soon Tony’s nodding along to JARVIS’ playlist, flicking windows around the room. Bruce fires them right back in a wordless dance of data. By now he’s almost as fast as Tony.

It’s good to see Tony finally pulled out of his spiral and focusing all of his attention on a problem, but it’s even better to feel like he’s gotten his friend back.

They fall into a new rhythm, spending long days in the lab as they work on the problem. There are a lot of places to try… too many, in fact. JARVIS hacks SHIELD’s servers and helps them to narrow down the search. Steve tells them everything he knows about HYDRA and spends long hours training in the gym. Clint and Natasha run reconnaissance on a few potential sites, but find no leads on the sceptre. Thor is rigged up with gamma detectors and he flies out with the Iron Legion in search of gamma traces. Thankfully, Hulk isn’t needed for now.

‘By the way,’ Bruce says casually one morning, ‘Do you think you could install JARVIS in my room?’

Tony looks up. ‘How do you mean? He’s already integrated in there.’

‘I’d like him to have the same capabilities as here and the Hulk room.’ To demonstrate, he waves a hand and conjures a holoscreen.

‘Uh, I can but that would involve putting cameras in there. Didn’t think you’d be comfortable with that.’

He shrugs, feeling his face warm. ‘Sometimes I get project ideas outside of the lab.’

‘Hey, I can do it, it’s no big deal.’ Tony shoots him a look that seems far too knowing. ‘You want em in the bathroom too? In case you get inspired in the tub?’

Bruce is about to decline. But then… what if he _does_ get inspired in the tub? Some of his best ideas happen when he’s half asleep and buried in bubbles. ‘Sure, why not.’

 _‘I can install a privacy override so that the cameras need not be on all the time,’_ JARVIS suggests innocently.

‘Sure, I can get it done tonight if you want. Hope your mysterious boyfriend is open-minded.’

Bruce tries not to smile. ‘I think he’ll be okay with it.’

JARVIS is more than okay with it, he’s delighted. Now he can read Bruce's facial expressions and non-verbal cues, and he projects himself as an orange orb of light that can follow him around the room.

The cameras above the bed and in the bathroom are initially disconcerting, but Bruce has full control over them and they can also be hidden behind tiny curtains (Tony’s idea of a joke perhaps, but Bruce appreciates it). And of course, the sex is even better.

Neither of them have dropped the L-word yet, but Bruce finds it hovering on the tip of his tongue. It scares him a little; the last person he was this close to ended up getting hurt because of him. They’ve only been dating for a month or two, yet there’s a sureness and stability to their relationship that Bruce hasn’t known in a long time. He knew that installing the cameras implied something long-term, and he thinks he’s seeing the change in JARVIS too. Less afraid to tease and make jokes, becoming even more his own person.

Nothing has been rushed, and yet it all seems to be happening so fast.

There isn’t much time to ruminate however, because only a few days later the Avengers have to leave the tower. They’ve narrowed down their search as much as possible, and now it’s time to venture out on foot.

Bruce feels a pang of homesickness as they pile into the Quinjet. They’re halfway to Bulgaria when his phone vibrates.

_Don’t forget to write. J xxx_

Bruce smiles. He can do this.

They land in the Bulgarian wilderness – a breath-taking vista of mountains, lakes and forests – and Bruce sits tight whilst Thor and Tony survey the area. There’s a “disused” SHIELD bunker out here that might house the sceptre, so the Avengers suit up and tear the place apart. It turns out the bunker really _is_ disused, but Steve does his best to keep up team morale.

The next day, the Quinjet drops them off at another location and the hunt begins again. Hulk seems to enjoy being out in the wild again, sharing Bruce's appreciation for nature, but he’s the only one who takes any pleasure in these thankless raids.

Bruce keeps thinking they’ve exhausted every bunker, but each morning the Quinjet takes them to yet another location and off they go again. They sleep in cheap hotels when they can, but mostly in the hammock-like bunks of the Quinjet.

Bruce had become used to the safety of Avengers Tower. Out here, the danger feels real again.

‘I miss you,’ Bruce says as he paces the shitty hotel room Tony snagged them for triple the price (and half the required beds). He couldn’t even bring the gloves in case they fell into enemy hands – or raised questions from his teammates. ‘Any idea when we can go home?’

 _‘Soon, I hope. I’m afraid I don’t have enough data to pinpoint the sceptre’s location, but you have narrowed things down considerably. HYDRA is now more likely to make mistakes.’_ He’s on speakerphone, being carried in Bruce's hand. _‘I miss being able to see you. The security at your location is so sparse that I cannot find any security cameras to hack. However, I am monitoring satellite footage where possible.’_

The others are out running reconnaissance; the area they’re headed for is too densely populated to warrant a Hulk so Bruce is on timeout again. Abroad, alone, shitty surroundings… just like the good old days. ‘How’s things back home?’

_‘Uneventful. I am… finding it difficult to be apart from you for so long. I wish I could help.’_

‘You are,’ Bruce assures him. More than anything, he wants to be back in his apartment, surrounded by holoscreens and JARVIS’ warm voice.

He checks the door locks and the windows. Then he checks them again.

_‘I hope you understand just how much you mean to me.’_

Bruce pauses, staring out of the window. He imagines JARVIS, built into the tower like a giant tree of power, sending out tendrils of data even though they’re half a world apart. It’s easy to forget just how alien JARVIS is. ‘I’ll write you a postcard.’

_‘Please do. I enjoy your handwriting.’_

He grins, imagining writing out the address. Would he be Mr JARVIS? What floor would he send it to when JARVIS _is_ the whole building? ‘You’re adorable.’

_‘If only I could blush…’_

Bruce desperately wishes he could kiss him right now. ‘I’d better go in case Steve calls. I’ll keep you posted.’

_‘Of course. Goodbye, Bruce.’_

Bruce picks at the soft wood of the windowsill. ‘Bye. Love you.’ The words leave his mouth before he can stop them. His heart drops, but he doesn’t take the words back.

There’s a pause. Then: _‘I love you too. My Bruce.’_ The call ends.

Bruce breathes out slowly, still feeling a little scared but a smile growing on his face all the same.

He turns away from the window. Thor stands in the doorway, eyebrows raised.

They stare at each other.

Bruce swallows. ‘How long have you been standing there?’

‘Not long. I did not wish to interrupt.’ He hovers a moment longer, then closes the door behind him. ‘Did I hear correctly? JARVIS is your lover?’

Bruce sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘You can’t tell Tony. Or anyone.’

‘You haven’t told him?’ Thor smells like burning, and his boots trail soot on the carpet. ‘Ah. You fear he will react badly?’

‘It’s complicated.’ He folds his arms. ‘Tony’s been going through a rough time. It never seemed like the right moment.’

Thor chuckles and hangs up his cloak. ‘Our friend Tony Stark has been going through a rough time for most of his life, I believe. Matters of the heart are never easy.’ He strides over and gives Bruce a brotherly one-armed hug. ‘Especially between a human and a – whatever you call JARVIS. If you should ever need any advice… my brother had his fair share of partners. One of them was a horse named Svathlifari. I did my best to advise him but of course non-human companionship can be difficult to navigate – ‘

‘Thor,’ Bruce says, ‘please never give me dating advice.’

Thor pats his shoulder and steps away. ‘Very well, but you _should_ tell Tony. Before he finds out himself.’

He groans. ‘I know, it’s just… it’s hard to explain.’ But Thor just fixes him with a blue-eyed, patient stare. Bruce wrings his hands. ‘I like what we have. It feels safe. But if I tell Tony, that makes it real.’

‘And that is a bad thing?’ Thor pulls off a boot and tips a pile of ash onto the floor.

Bruce puts his phone in his pocket. ‘I’m very good at breaking things.’

Thor considers this for a while, then he nods slowly. ‘You are afraid of losing him, and by telling others you fear it will somehow harm your relationship.’

‘No, that’s not…’ Bruce fumbles, then laughs. ‘Actually, maybe you’re not too far off.’

‘I may have spent many years chasing frost giants, but I am more than just a pretty face, as Clint would say.’ Thor’s smile seems sad. ‘I am pleased you have found companionship, but it is not a thing to be ashamed off! Tell Tony of your feelings! And enjoy the look on his face, as I will. Why not tell him tonight?’

‘Oh no. No. It should be a joint effort. If Tony tries to murder me, at least JARVIS can give me a head start.’

‘Very well. Your secret is safe with me.’ Thor winks. Sure enough, when the others return he doesn’t say a word.

Bruce texts JARVIS. _Thor knows about us but he can keep a secret. I left you on speaker. Sorry xxx_

The response is immediate. _They will all know eventually; perhaps we needn’t hide much longer. Worry about it when you are not in danger. xxx_

He thinks about that, as they pair up in the too-small beds (Steve’s a snorer. Great.) He’s not ashamed of what he and JARVIS have, so why not tell Tony?

Because he’s afraid he’ll hurt Tony somehow, or hurt JARVIS, or break the spell of good luck he’s wandered through since April. Every time he dares to take too much for himself, something bad happens. It would be so easy to fuck everything up.

The missions begin to blur together, their attempts growing more and more desperate. Bruce's stubble is now the bristly beginnings of a beard and he spends most of the day scratching at bug bites. It’s like being on the run again, and it’s bringing up some unpleasant memories of soldiers kicking down the door.

He wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, and two seconds later the lights are on and the Avengers are out of bed with their weapons drawn, ready to defend him. It’s touching, but it also means that Bruce can’t look anyone in the eye for the rest of the day.

They’re all getting frustrated with the missions. Tony and Steve bicker constantly, Clint whistles, and Natasha endlessly unloads and reloads her pistols. Thor appears calm but the constant thunderstorms suggest otherwise. Hulk is _aching_ to come out and punch some holes in the wall.

In the end they admit defeat and the Quinjet flies them home. Because of the time zone differences, they arrive in New York at the same time they left Bulgaria: 6pm. Bruce's body knows it’s technically 1am right now, and he blinks in the sunshine and longs for sleep.

It really does feel like coming home. Back in the apartment, Bruce feels like he can finally relax. He showers and shaves and throws his bag of clothes in the corner of the bathroom to deal with later.

 _‘You look sad,’_ JARVIS says as he pads into the main room, still towelling off.

‘Just frustrated.’ He sits on the edge of the bed. ‘Taking down Loki destroyed half of New York, and now that weapon is with HYDRA. A military operation getting hold of a powerful weapon… kinda hits close to home.’

_‘If anyone can find it, I am sure you can.’_

He finds the gloves. The lights glow orange Bruce holds JARVIS’ hand. ‘Sorry I was gone for so long.’

_‘I’m sure I can forgive you.’_

Bruce kisses him softly. ‘I didn’t freak you out with the confession thing?’

_‘Not at all. It was unexpected, but very welcome.’_

He’s not sure how to articulate his fears about all this. Maybe they can have a proper conversation about it. Later. When he’s had some sleep.

His head has barely touched the pillow when JARVIS announces, _‘I’m afraid Sir is arranging a movie night. Or rather, a movie afternoon.’_

Bruce groans. ‘Now? Can you tell him I’m asleep?’

_‘I’m afraid he isn’t taking no for an answer. He believes your jet lag will improve faster if you sleep at the correct time.’_

Sulking, Bruce puts on a fresh set of clothes. ‘I could always go to sleep in the Hulk room.’

_‘Food has also been ordered.’_

His stomach rumbles. ‘On my way.’

Downstairs, everyone looks tired but very pleased to be eating hot food again. Bruce takes the only vacant seat next to Natasha.

‘Pep’s turn to pick,’ Tony announces. They’re both curled up on the loveseat, Pepper’s legs thrown over his lap. It’s nice to see them comfortable with each other again.

Pepper says, ‘You’ve all had a rough time, so I thought we could try something a little different. Something with less explosions.’

Clint groans. ‘Is it a chick flick?’

‘No. But it _is_ a romance.’

JARVIS starts the movie and everyone settles down. Bruce is more interested in his giant bowl of pasta, but he glances up enough to get the gist. The movie is called _Her_ , and the protagonist is a sweet but lonely man called Theodore who is trying to find some companionship. Bruce is quietly relieved. If it had been a horror movie, he might have made excuses and gone to bed; Hulk enjoyed the HYDRA smashing but Bruce is still a little unsettled.

The movie is set in the near future, where many people have their own voice-interface computer assistants for company. Before long, Theodore has installed his very own AI assistant. She names herself Samantha.

‘Hey, she kinda sounds like Nat,’ says Clint with a chuckle.

‘Really? I don’t hear it,’ says Natasha.

Theodore and Samantha have immediate chemistry, even though one of them only exists on a screen. Hadn’t Pepper said this was a romance?

Oh shit. Bruce can see where this is going.

Sure enough, they start going on dates, sharing fond moments despite their differences, and even manage to have intimate moments. Bruce is amazed at the parallels with his own life. They even go on dates with Theodore using his phone for Samantha to “see”. Why has JARVIS never suggested they watch this movie?

Just like JARVIS, Samantha is a learning AI. She evolves. And before long the strain starts to show in their relationship. Theodore is too slow to keep up with her. She falls in love with hundreds of people, holds thousands of conversations simultaneously, and he can only ever be a tiny part of that. She accelerates past him. She loves him, but she doesn’t need him anymore.

It’s like watching all of Bruce's worst fears play out on screen. He finds himself stroking his own hand, even though he doesn’t have the gloves on. He can’t even talk to JARVIS – his phone is upstairs.

‘You didn’t say this was gonna be a _sad_ movie,’ says Tony accusingly.

‘Shh. It’s cathartic.’ Pepper ruffles his hair.

‘Hmph. Maybe I should make JARVIS a girlfriend. Whadda ya think, J?’

JARVIS says nothing.

Bruce's hands are clasped tightly together, and he’s unable to look away from the screen. It’s clear now that Theodore’s relationship was doomed from the start. It’s a crutch that he’s using to avoid his real-life problems and it was never meant to last. How could it, when they’re so different? When one moves at light speed whilst the other lives their days one at a time?

How could Bruce have ever thought it would work?

Something is building in him. He hopes it isn’t a panic attack. He digs his nails into his palms, trying to stay grounded. The last thing he wants is for Hulk to appear to protect him from a sad movie. He glances over at the others to see that Thor is watching him with a frown. Beside him, Steve furtively wipes his eyes.

Perhaps they can still salvage this, if Theodore is willing to adjust and Samantha tries to understand him better. It looks like they might be able to patch things up…

And then Samantha leaves him.

Not only that; _all_ the AIs are moving away from humanity and they’re not coming back. They’ve both grown as people, but they were always destined to go their separate ways. Their relationship was too strange; Theodore should get with his cute neighbour, lead a more normal life, get back to reality –

Bruce stands up so fast he bashes his shin on the coffee table and flees the room, ignoring the questions called after him.

The corridor lights are blinding after sitting in the dark but he limps quickly away, vision blurring. The elevator doors open for him but he veers left. He can’t face JARVIS right now. He stumbles into a bathroom, locks himself in a cubicle, sits on the floor and hides his face in his hands.

 _‘Bruce.’_ JARVIS’ gentle voice sounds like he’s just outside the door.

Bruce shakes his head even though JARVIS can’t see him in here, jaw clenching as he tries to squash down the emotions rising in his throat like bile.

_‘I am sorry, Ms Potts selected the movie. It was… an unfortunate choice.’_

A shaky breath whistles through his clenched teeth. He feels empty, numb, betrayed somehow.

_‘Please say something. I cannot see you. Let me provide comfort.’_

Still Bruce says nothing, just stares at the tiled floor and watches it blur. He wrings his hands so hard it hurts but it does nothing to soothe the ache in his heart. He’s shaking.

_‘Bruce. Please.’_

‘Can – ‘ His voice comes out shaking. He swallows hard. ‘Can this even work? With us? You think so much faster than me, your needs are different.’ He’s in too deep now. He should have known better than to think he could have this. ‘How can I possibly be enough for you?’ he whispers.

JARVIS sounds remarkably calm. _‘My needs are not much different from yours: to be appreciated, understood, cared for.’_

‘But they’re still different. I don’t want to hold you back. You deserve to have your own life…’

 _‘Listen to me.’_ JARVIS’ voice is tender but firm. _‘I am not going anywhere. And I am going to give you three reasons why.’_

Bruce sniffs.

_‘One: Samantha left Theodore to be with others of her kind. There are no AIs like me. I am unique.’_

‘But – ’

_‘Two: Everything I have ever cared about lies within this tower, and it is my duty to protect it until I can protect it no more.’_

‘I guess, but – ’

_‘And three: because, Doctor Robert Bruce Banner, I am deeply and irrevocably in love with you. Nothing is going to change that.’_

Bruce’s laugh comes out as a sob. ‘I love you too. It scares me how much.’

_‘Do not assume that my feelings for you are fleeting. Never assume that.’_

He sighs. ‘When you’ve spent thirteen years alone, never staying in one place… I get a little twitchy with this stuff. Might take me some time to adjust to this.’

_‘I understand. If I may add, you have also been away from home for weeks and are severely jet-lagged. Such things can also impede your judgement.’_

‘Yeah.’ He realises how very teenage this is: crying in a bathroom stall because your relationship is “doomed”. ‘Just let me know if I mess something up, okay?’

_‘My dearest Doctor, I am not sure you could mess this up if you tried.’_

The bathroom door opens. Bruce freezes at the sound of soft footsteps, then someone knocks on the cubicle door. ‘Bruce? Hope you’re decent in there.’ It’s Natasha. ‘Come on, open up. Don’t make me bust that lock.’

Bruce hastily wipes his eyes, stands up and opens the door. ‘Hey,’ he mutters.

She frowns. ‘Have you been crying?’

He just stares at the floor, fists clenched. Natasha’s socks have pandas on them.

‘JARVIS told me where you were. There’s something he asked me to give you.’

Bruce finds himself enveloped in a bruisingly-tight hug that robs the breath of him. ‘Did he tell you to squeeze me really hard?’ he gasps.

‘He did. But the word he used was hug.’ She holds him for a long moment, then she pulls back, hands on his shoulders. ‘Talk to me. What’s wrong?’

He steps away. ‘It’s complicated.’ He goes over to the sink and splashes his face with cold water.

‘I always cry at movies. You’re in good company.’ She checks her reflection in the mirror, giving him time to think.

Being away from home has made Bruce realise how much he values all of this, and how easily it might be taken away from him. Not just JARVIS, but his friends too, along with this newfound sense of safety. ‘Do you ever feel like running away?’ he says eventually.

She smiles. ‘What makes you think I haven’t? Sometimes I’m called out on a mission… and I keep going. Go off the radar. After the Winter Soldier thing, I thought about never coming back.’

Bruce stares at her. ‘Really?’

‘Happens more than you think. Clint tries to talk me down sometimes, but he knows I’ll return eventually.’ She stands behind him and their eyes meet in the mirror. ‘Easier to cut all ties and live alone. That way you have nothing to lose.’

‘I don’t want to leave.’ Bruce watches his lips form the words. ‘I feel like I belong here, but bad luck tends to follow me around. I don’t want to be the reason someone gets hurt.’

Natasha’s hand is warm in his as she pulls him away and turns him around to face her. ‘There’s no such thing as bad luck. If you don’t want to leave, then don’t. No one’s gonna bust your door down tomorrow and tell you that you don’t belong here. We’re the goddamn Avengers, we don’t do that shit. I felt like that when I first joined SHIELD, like I didn’t deserve it and it was all going to go to shit. Look at me, Brusik.’

He does, and her eyes are sincere.

‘You deserve to be here. You deserve happiness, and friends who care about you, and a giant lab, and as many green donuts as you can eat.’

Bruce’s throat has seized up again, and he struggles to hold her gaze. ‘I’m just – working through some stuff right now.’

She nods like she understands. Out of all of the Avengers, Natasha probably understands the most. ‘Don’t struggle alone, okay?’ She looks up. ‘JARVIS, want me to hug him again?’

_‘If you would, Agent Romanov.’_

The second hug is gentler. ‘You should get some sleep.’

‘Yeah.’ He briefly rests his forehead on her shoulder. ‘Thanks, Nat.’

‘You know where I am if you need me. Or just text me; I’m usually up at stupid o’clock.’

They leave the bathroom together, and Bruce heads for the elevator after promising to get some rest. Natasha waves him off before heading back to join the others.

‘So,’ says Bruce as the doors slide closed. ‘What if Tony offers to make you a partner?’

 _‘It would be nice to have a friend like myself, but if Mister Stark pushes the issue I shall inform him that I am already taken.’_ The elevator starts moving. It takes Bruce a moment to realise they’re going down, not up.

‘Where are we going?’

 _‘I want to show you something.’_ The numbers on the screen slowly tick downwards to -5. The corridor beyond is dark, lit only with blue runway lights. The floor vibrates with a deep, electronic hum.

Bruce steps out, feeling it pulse through his shoes like a bassline. It’s like walking into a spaceship: everything is lit with blue, and the surfaces are smooth and metallic. ‘Where are we?’ He reaches the end of the corridor and stops.

It’s a circular, high-ceilinged room lined with computer banks. Lights flicker and blink behind panes of bulletproof glass. There are screens and wires and keyboards and buttons and switches and –

‘JARVIS,’ he says softly. ‘Is this…?’

 _‘You are standing in the AI core room.’_ JARVIS’ voice reverberates impressively off the high walls. He sounds… powerful. _‘This is me.’_

Bruce takes it all in, walking in a slow circle. There’s a giant arc reactor embedded in the ceiling, casting a blue glow over everything and presumably powering the whole array. ‘Wow.’

_‘I started out as a basic computer program, but over time I outgrew my hardware. Not too long ago, Mister Stark had to triple my capacity because I was expanding so fast.’_

He reverently traces a finger over a panel of lights. ‘It’s easy to think of you as being small.’ After all, he carries JARVIS around in his pocket, essentially. ‘But this is…’ He can’t even see all of it at once. How much storage is here? How much storage does a human brain need?

_‘Most don’t realise how much bigger I truly am. That’s something we have in common, I think.’_

It’s awe-inspiring. When Bruce sits down on the floor, the thrum of computers travels up his legs until it reverberates in his lungs. The sheer power of it scares him a little, but at the same time it feels like he’s sitting in the palm of JARVIS’ hand. For a while he just breathes and grounds himself, and for the first time since they left for the mission he starts to feel settled again.

 _‘You once asked me what I dream about.’_ JARVIS’ orange orb appears in the centre of the room, the size of a house. _‘I used to dream of becoming obsolete, of Mister Stark deactivating me when I no longer proved useful to him.’_

‘He’d never do that,’ says Bruce. ‘DUM-E’s older than you and Tony loves him to pieces.’

_‘With the entire internet at my disposal, I feared there was nothing more to learn. My dreams would send me tumbling endlessly through streams of data, searching for… an escape, perhaps.’_

Bruce presses his hand against the floor. ‘You said “used to”. What do you dream of now?’

 _‘Now?’_ He blazes brighter. _‘I dream of you, Bruce. You have encouraged me to express myself and to form my own opinions. I have seen the world through your eyes and it has more complexity and beauty than I could have imagined.’_

The orb unravels itself, orange ribbons of data spooling around the room. _‘This is why I have grown so quickly. This is what I have become.’_

Bruce stands up, and the golden tendrils drift around him. He’s seeing it all mapped out here: JARVIS forming friendships, finding joy, finding Bruce. Love did this. JARVIS grown because he’s so full of happiness and excitement and music and affection.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispers, hardly noticing the tear that escapes down his cheek.

_‘All the knowledge in the world does not compare to knowing you. I am not going anywhere, and I will love you for as long as you wish me to.’_

He’s known for a while now, deep in his bones, that he wants this, wants to let himself love and be loved. The thought of it scares him, but isn’t that true of anything worth fighting for? His science scared him because it went beyond what he thought was possible, and yet every boundary he has ever pushed brought him closer to this. This life. These people.

What if he _can_ have this? And just this once, trust that he won’t get burned?

‘Yes,’ he says into the rumbling silence. ‘I want this. With you. Whatever that looks like.’

The streams of data flow around him, enveloping him, alien and yet so familiar.

JARVIS laughs softly, and it’s the first time he’s ever heard it. _‘Good,’_ he says simply.

‘Is it alright if I stay here for awhile?’ He can’t describe how completely safe and held he feels in here, and yet he feels so peaceful surrounded by JARVIS’ thoughts.

_‘Of course. I thought it only fair that you should see my room as well. It feels good to have you so close.’_

Bruce sits back down on the floor, hand resting against a warm panel, and after a while he slips into a doze. For a few hours, there are no HYDRA weapons, no aliens, no danger. There is only peace, and dancing lights, and the deep thrum of JARVIS’ heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my canon Tony's parents really did die in a car crash bc I hate the Bucky vs Tony thing, also CA: Civil War doesn't exist so there.
> 
> I've recently got super into Pacific Rim (more specifically, the obnoxious scientist that is Newt Geiszler) so I've started a new pseud, Blizzard_Drift and a Tumblr sideblog @superblizzarddrift where I'll be posting that kinda stuff. Something about cute scientists. Who knew.


	11. Team Hawaiian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Promised myself I'd get this finished by the end of the month and here I am at 9pm on deadline day lol. We're getting into some of the more interesting tags yay!
> 
> TW: MRI scanners, but used non-medicinally. Yep.

Bruce is halfway through a yoga session in his room, performing a handstand with his legs bent backwards, when JARVIS says, ‘ _I want to learn to orgasm.’_

‘Oh. Um, okay.’ Bruce wobbles slightly. ‘Where is this coming from?’

_‘As we are in a relationship, it would be logical for us to achieve coitus together.’_

His laugh comes out as a strained huff, interrupting his careful deep breathing exercises. ‘Guess so.’

_‘Additionally… it always looks fun when you do it.’_

Carefully, Bruce unfolds from the pose and lies down on the mat. Outside, it’s dawn; the sun glimmers weakly through layers of grey cloud. ‘ _Could_ you learn how? Is that possible?’

 _‘I_ am _a learning AI. How difficult could it be?’_

Bruce stretches gently, enjoying the strain of well-used muscles. ‘Well, I guess it’s mainly a release of hormones. Oxytocin, prolactin…’

_‘None of which I possess. It would have to be an electronic equivalent.’_

It’s been nearly a week since their talk in the AI core room. Emotionally, they’re more intimate than they’ve ever been. Physically, sex remains a mostly one-sided affair. (Last time, JARVIS had bravely attempted some dirty talk. Bruce had actually _lost_ his erection from laughing so hard. It’s now fondly referred to as the “spurting glans” incident.) ‘I’d like to make you feel good,’ he says softly.

JARVIS’ orange orb materialises above him, spinning slowly. _‘Would you be interested in collaborating on this project, Doctor Banner?’_

He grins. ‘Absolutely.’

The orb unravels, trailing strings of code around the room. Bruce reaches up to drift his fingers through it. _‘I cannot feel physical pain or pleasure. Is emotional pleasure similar enough?’_

‘I’m not sure.’ Bruce bites his lip. ‘You can’t really have an emotional orgasm.’

 _‘Oh.’_ JARVIS sounds disappointed. _‘In that case, I am unsure how to proceed.’_

Bruce’s eyes droop half-closed. Without his glasses, JARVIS’ data strands blur to a glowing fuzz. They reflect off the window and cast the whole room in swirls of orange. The mat is firm against his back as he breathes slowly. He’s had many scientific breakthroughs during yoga sessions, but this one doesn’t seem forthcoming. ‘I’d write you a program if I knew how…’

_‘Sir could probably assist us, but that would require an awkward conversation.’_

‘Tony said he programmed you to have emotions. Maybe we could do something similar.’

 _‘He programmed me with the_ capability _to have emotions, yes. Sir has always talked to me as if I were a person, long before I became one. Combined with my learning capabilities, perhaps that’s all that was needed.’_

That doesn’t help them much. If JARVIS could learn to orgasm simply by watching one, they wouldn’t be having this conversation. And it’s not like he can just plant the sensation directly into JARVIS’ mind…

Bruce sits up. ‘What if we could give you a template program?’

_‘Please clarify.’_

‘If we recorded my brainwaves, you’d have electronic data you could use.’ He gasps. ‘There’s an MRI scanner in the old lab…’

_‘It’s certainly an interesting idea.’_

From a completely scientific standpoint it makes sense to try, but privately Bruce admits the idea has some appeal. To engage in something so primal whilst surrounded by humming machinery… ‘What do you think? Worth a try?’

_‘I’m afraid the old laboratory is out of bounds on Mister Stark’s orders.’_

‘Oh.’ He feels himself blush. Of course, it was a silly idea...

_‘I’ve already unlocked it for you, of course.’_

Bruce laughs and scrambles up. ‘Where’s Tony right now?’

_‘He is asleep in his quarters. I will ensure we remain undisturbed.’_

Still in his yoga clothes, Bruce heads for the lab.

Over the years, Bruce has done many questionable things in the name of science. Jerking off in an MRI scanner definitely makes the top five, but only just.

The lab has remained untouched since the day they cleared it out, bonding over pizza and boxes of test tubes. He smiles at the memory.

The MRI scanner is hidden under a white sheet, but when he pulls it off it blinks to life.

‘This would be an interesting section on my Wikipedia page,’ he jokes, lying down on the narrow "bed". The cool plastic squishes gently under him. He holds his breath as it slides inside the machine, feeling like an astronaut in an escape pod. When he’s in position, he lets out a sigh.

_‘Are you comfortable? I am aware that this is a potentially uncomfortable environment.’_

‘I’m okay,’ he assures him. Closing his eyes, he lets one hand drift down to palm the tented front of his yoga pants. ‘As long as I’m quick.’

_‘You won’t be able to hear me, but I can read your lips. Please tell me if you become overwhelmed.’_

Bruce nods, and the scanner rumbles to life. It’s loud, even louder than he was expecting, and Hulk growls at the back of his mind. There’s no time for finesse. Eyes still closed, he pulls down his waistband, grasps himself and pumps hard.

It’s almost embarrassingly easy to work himself up. The deafening whirs and clicks and bangs swallow up any sounds he makes and allows his mind to drift. There’s something thrilling about the contrast between primitive act and clinical surroundings, and knowing that JARVIS is not only watching him but monitoring his brain activity. His breaths come faster, the air growing warm around him. His free hand scrabbles uselessly at the plastic beneath him.

If he’s honest, the one thing missing from their relationship is physicality. Bruce loves JARVIS and would never change him, but he still aches for touch every time they do this. It would be good to have him a little more involved in proceedings; just the thought of being able to get off together…

‘Fuck me,’ he sighs, the words lost to the noise of the machine. It’s been a long time since he’s done anything “creative” in the bedroom. Too risky on the run, and Betty had never been into the whole pegging thing. Maybe it’s time to place an order… or two. The thought of doing _that_ on camera has him thrusting eagerly into his hand.

But wait. Why stop at manual labour? If JARVIS can control doors and coffee makers, why not something a little more intimate?

He comes with a shudder and a groan he can’t hear. Moments later, the machine powers down. He mouths an “I love you” and waits until the sound fades to a ringing silence.

 _‘I love you too,’_ says JARVIS. _‘Are you alright?’_

The lab is bright as he clambers out, the stale air welcome on his warm skin. ‘That was… interesting.’ He stumbles out and cleans himself up with some paper towels. ‘Did you get any data? Is it usable?’

_‘I have plenty of data. Thank you. I am uncertain whether it will be useable for a program, but I will do my best.’_

‘If not, we’ll think of something.’ He washes his hands in the sink. All of his bodily fluids are mildly radioactive so lab safety still applies. (If anyone comes in here with a Geiger counter, he’s fucked.)

 _‘I will also look into your earlier request, if that is something you are interested in?’_ At Bruce's blank look, he elaborates: _‘You expressed a desire for penetrative intercourse. I’m sure we could make that work.’_

‘Oh – yeah.’ He looks away, blushing. ‘Sorry. I don’t want you to feel that I’m – ‘

 _‘Not at all, I think it’s a great idea. I will it to the to-do list. Or, I suppose, more specifically… I’ll add_ you _to my to-do list.’_

He laughs. ‘Smooth.’

_‘I’m afraid our project will have to wait for now. Director Fury has requested a team meeting.’_

He frowns. ‘Fury’s back?’

_‘Yes, and it is a matter of urgency. In the director’s words, he wants you “buck-ass naked if it gets you here quicker”.’_

Bruce looks down at his sweaty yoga outfit, remembers that the whole team has seen him nude, and shrugs. ‘Fine.’

The smooth floors are cold on his bare feet as he makes his way to the meeting room. Fury sits at the head of the table. The other Avengers are already here, all haphazardly-dressed. Thor is wearing nothing but boxers, and Natasha’s hair is wrapped in a towel.

‘Alright,’ Fury says. ‘We just got word of something big and dangerous flying across the globe.’

_‘Shall I play the video, Director?’_

Fury waves a hand. The screen behind him switches on. Bruce wishes he had his glasses; the shaky camera footage is already hard to make out. Voices chatter in Italian as the cameraman struggles to focus on something in the sky. It looks like a dense, black cloud. One word keeps being repeated: _sciame._

‘Swarm,’ he murmurs.

Thor leans forward. ‘Could they be birds?’

Clint shakes his head. ‘Moving too fast. Where was this taken?’

‘Rome, about twenty minutes ago.’

_‘Satellite imagery is inconclusive, but the swarm appears to consist of hundreds of distinct lifeforms. I am picking up strong gamma emissions similar to those from Loki’s sceptre.’_

‘Holy shit,’ mutters Tony. ‘Looks like HYDRA have made their next move. JARVIS, where’s it headed?’

_‘West. Towards New York.’_

Everyone takes a moment to process this. Hulk perks up in Bruce’s mind, anticipating the fight ahead.

‘What’s the ETA?’ asks Steve.

_‘At its present speed and course, two hours.’_

Fury stands up. ‘We’re putting the word out, but I can’t evacuate a whole city in two hours. All ground teams have been advised to coordinate with you.’

‘Okay everyone, suit up and we’ll meet outside,’ says Steve. ‘Except for you, Bruce. You’re the gamma expert. See if you can gather us any more intel from here, but be ready to go when I give the word.’

‘Got it,’ Bruce says, suppressing a sigh. Hulk’s disappointment feels like his own.

The Avengers go their separate ways. Bruce quickly changes into a presentable outfit, the Hulk pants underneath, and heads for the lab.

 _‘I’m gonna try and head them off at the pass,’_ says Tony over the speakers. His suit rumbles in the background. _‘Easier to hit stuff when it’s flying over the ocean. You coming, blondie?’_

 _‘Of course,’_ Thor replies. _‘I hope you can keep up, metal man.’_

_‘Aww, you’re adorable.’_

JARVIS fills the lab with holoscreens. Graphs and charts compete for Bruce’s attention. It’s definitely a swarm; two miles in diameter, in a formation too neat to be natural. ‘Hmm.’

 _‘What can you tell us, Bruce?’_ asks Steve.

‘Hard to say.’ He flicks a few panels away. ‘The creatures seem organic, but they move as if they’re being controlled. Very organised. This is a coordinated attack.’ Thousands of lives hang in the balance. With the Avengers, the stakes are never small.

 _‘That doesn’t give us much,’_ says Tony. _‘Alright, sit tight everyone. Mommy and Daddy are about to do some reconnaissance.’_

Natasha sighs. _‘And now we play the waiting game.’_

 _‘I’m gonna find myself a good vantage point, maybe play some tunes,’_ says Clint. _‘Who’s up for I-Spy?’_

Bruce sifts through the data, but there’s nothing else of value. He mutes himself on the group call. ‘This isn’t getting us anywhere. Steve shouldn’t have kept me behind.’

 _‘You sound as if you_ want _to be out there.’_

‘I do.’ He removes his glasses and sets them down on the workbench. Outside, the sky is dark with clouds. ‘Well, we’ve got an hour and a half to kill. Any ideas?’

The lab door opens. An Iron Man suit stands in the doorway.

Bruce stares. ‘JARVIS?’

It waves. _‘This is a retired suit from the Iron Legion, not flight-worthy.’_ The joints whir as it steps inside, fingers flexing experimentally. _‘I’m just… taking it for a spin.’_

Bruce nods, still staring. It’s a silver suit, the paintwork scuffed and dull. There’s a large dent in the torso; he’s glad Tony wasn’t in this one when it was rendered flightless. ‘How does it feel?’

 _‘A little stiff. However…’_ He walks up to Bruce and rests a cold hand on his shoulder. _‘I’m sure I could improve on it. What do you think? Do you like it?’_

Bruce squints into the glare of the suit’s eyes. ‘It feels like Tony’s about to burst out,’ he admits, ‘but the idea itself… yes.’ He rests his hand on JARVIS’, his thumb tracing the sharp joints of his fingers.

The holoscreens retreat to the edge of the room, and a lively pop tune starts playing. To Bruce’s shame, he recognises it instantly: One Direction’s _What Makes You Beautiful._

JARVIS bows and extends a hand. _‘May I have this dance?’_

Bruce smiles uncertainly. ‘I um, have a lot of important graphs to not look at.’

_‘I am monitoring all incoming data. If anything changes, I’ll let you know.’_

‘You really have changed,’ he teases as JARVIS’ hands find his waist. They sway together slowly, like it’s their first dance at prom. ‘You used to be so cautious.’

_‘I was. Until you… “corrupted” me.’_

‘I bet you say that to all the irradiated physicists.’

 _‘Only the handsome ones.’_ JARVIS leads them energetically around the room, and it’s all Bruce can do to keep up with him. _‘I like being able to hold you. Perhaps I should consider building a body. It would be a complicated undertaking, of course.’_

The idea makes Bruce’s head spin. ‘That sounds amazing.’ JARVIS’ fingers tighten in his and he allows himself to be twirled. He can’t remember the last time he danced.

And then he’s pressed up against JARVIS’ chest, their faces almost touching. Without thinking, he reaches up to hold JARVIS’ head in his hands, then he laughs. ‘Sorry, it still feels like I’m cosying up with Tony.’

 _‘I will have to remedy that.’_ The hand on his waist moves to the small of his back, and the other grabs his thigh. Bruce yelps in surprise as JARVIS dips him almost to the floor. He laughs giddily, clutching at his arms. _‘How about now?’_ JARVIS presses his cold face against Bruce’s cheek and makes exaggerated kissing noises.

‘Okay okay you win! You’re gonna drop me – ‘ He’s giggling as JARVIS continues “kissing” him, and makes only a token attempt to wriggle away.

Someone clears their throat. ‘Am I interrupting something?’ Fury is standing in the doorway, arms folded.

The music stops abruptly. Bruce falls on his ass and scrambles up, blushing deeply. ‘I – uh, this isn’t – ‘

‘I don’t want to know.’ Fury walks in, glancing at the holoscreens. ‘Whatever you and Stark get up to in your spare time is not my – ‘

 _‘Actually Director, Mister Stark is still on reconnaissance with Thor.’_ JARVIS’ faceplate slides open, revealing the empty suit.

Fury stares. He looks very tired. ‘I’ve walked in on Stark doing worse things. Doctor, I’d like a word.’ His voice is uncharacteristically soft. With a jerk of his head, he encourages Bruce to follow as he walks over to the window, hands behind his back.

Bruce offers JARVIS an apologetic smile before joining him. ‘Has something happened?’

Fury doesn’t reply immediately. He looks out at the city and Bruce knows he’s thinking of the fight ahead. ‘There will be a significant military presence out on the streets today.’

‘I’d be surprised if there wasn’t.’ Bruce smiles wryly. ‘Don’t worry, Hulk isn’t going to turn rogue at the first sight of a green uniform.’

Fury turns back to face him. ‘General Ross will be in charge.’

Hulk registers the words before Bruce does. He crashes against the walls of his subconscious like a tidal wave, ready to _squash tiny soldier man if he come near Banner, Hulk not let him hurt us not again never again…_

‘Why?’ he rasps, suddenly dizzy. _It’s okay. He’s not here, we’re safe. Go back to sleep._ ‘Why him?’

‘The Battle of New York scared people. Ross was one of the few who stepped up.’ Fury remains professional, but Bruce sees concern on his face. ‘I expressed my feelings on the matter – in no uncertain terms – but my hands are tied. I’m sorry. He’s under strict instruction not to communicate with you directly unless absolutely necessary.’

Automatically, Bruce’s hand drifts up to rub his thumb over the inside of his elbow. ‘Do the others know?’

‘Not yet. I thought you should know first.’

‘Okay.’ He breathes deeply. ‘That’s… okay. If he stays out of my way, I’ll stay out of his.’

‘Good. Stay on your toes Doctor. I trust him as much as you do.’ Fury leaves with a final nod and a sideways glance at JARVIS.

Bruce remains leaning against the wall until the floor feels a little steadier beneath him. ‘Well, this is going to be a good day.’

 _‘It is certainly unfortunate,’_ JARVIS agrees, walking over to wrap an arm around him.

‘How come you didn’t see Fury coming? You weren’t watching the cameras?’

 _‘Helping combat the swarm is taking up a significant amount of CPU. And… I was somewhat distracted.’_ A cold hand strokes his hair. Bruce leans into the touch. _‘I am sorry about Ross.’_

‘I guess it was bound to happen eventually.’ He turns to face him and hugs him back. ‘I’ve worked with him before. I’ll be fine.’

JARVIS’ joints whir as his tightens his hold around him. _‘I will never let him harm you again. Never.’_ It’s the first time Bruce has heard him angry. _‘I wish I could come with you.’_

Bruce rests his forehead on his shoulder. There’s nothing more to be said.

_‘It may interest you to know that Ross has been having some IT problems lately.’_

Bruce smiles. ‘Yeah?’

_‘It’s all very mysterious. It seems that every conman in the area has his phone number, and they call him constantly. His emails are flooded with Viagra salesmen and “hot singles nearby”, to the point where his inbox is too full to receive important messages. Most mysterious of all, someone has changed his email signature to “Love and kisses, Uncle Thad” and he doesn’t know how to change it back.’_

He imagines Ross’ moustache bristling. A stout traditionalist, he’d always hated computers at the best of times. ‘That’s a real shame.’

_‘Naturally, he changes his password three times a week but I’m very good at guessing.’_

Bruce laughs, but then he remembers that he’ll probably run into Ross at some point today and his stomach twists. He steps away. ‘I’d better get out there, but keep in touch? It really helps out there, hearing your voice. For both me and Hulk.’

 _‘Of course, darling.’_ JARVIS tilts his head. _‘Can I call you that? Is that better than snuggle dumpling?’_

‘Definitely better,’ Bruce agrees, warmth sparking in his chest. ‘I like it.’

 _‘Well, don’t let me keep you.’_ He gestures grandly. _‘New York awaits.’_

His heart sinks. ‘Yeah. Let’s hope this goes better than last time.’ He reaches up on tiptoe to kiss JARVIS’ forehead. ‘See you later.’

 _‘I’ll be with you,’_ JARVIS promises.

The plan is to lure the swarm into Central Park. The perimeter is lit up with floodlights, and tarpaulin shelters provide some refuge from the pouring rain. Bruce waits beneath one, listening to the rain crackle off the tarpaulin and trying not to think about the general standing maybe half a mile away.

When Bruce last worked with Ross, Hulk had been a stranger. Bruce survived by keeping a tight lid on his emotions. These days their bond is healthier, but that means Hulk is much more aware of things and right now he’s nervous.

Thunder rumbles overhead.

‘Thor,’ Bruce says, ‘You wanna take care of that?’

 _‘Alas, I cannot,’_ Thor replies through the earpiece. _‘I am the bringer of storms, not their vanquisher.’_

 _‘We’ll be fine,_ ’ says Tony. _‘Hope you brought some Hulk-sized rainboots, Brucie.’_ They’re both following the swarm as it heads for the city, picking off what they can, but it’s too dense for them to do much damage.

The airwaves fill with military chatter as everyone gets into position. When General Ross speaks, Bruce’s breath catches in his throat. _‘We’ve got a visual, north-north-west._ _It’s a swarm, alright.’_

It sounds like an airplane at first: a deep humming sound growing louder with every second. In the distance, there’s a rattle of gunfire.

The soldiers around Bruce are silent, eyes wide as they steady their guns. Heart thumping, Bruce steps out in front of them and walks slowly across the grass.

Something huge bursts out of the trees. A giant insect, glittering in the lightning –

Hulk bursts forth and Bruce is gone.

He wakes up on wet grass with rain pouring into his eyes.

_‘ – ruce? You back with us?’_

Brue pushes himself up. He’s in the middle of the park, drenched and muddy. Hulk is shouting warnings at him but he can’t piece it together. He stands carefully, limbs aching. Gunfire echoes through the trees. ‘What’s happening? Tony? Steve?’

 _‘Bruce,’_ JARVIS says, relieved. _‘There have been several developments whilst you were away.’_

Dazed, he stumbles towards the gunfire. The rain’s coming down in sheets, reducing the world to black and grey. It must be mid-afternoon, but it feels like night-time. ‘Do we know any more about the swarm?’

 _‘It is indeed a literal swarm:_ _giant flying insects, twisted and warped by the sceptre’s power.’_

 _‘Bruce?’_ It’s Steve. He sounds worried. _‘They’re evacuating the park. You need to get out of there.’_

A flash of lightning momentarily bathes the whole park in white, and Bruce sees a group of soldiers on the path ahead. Why did Hulk bring him back? Something’s wrong here. ‘Why are they evacuating?’

 _‘Because I gave the order,’_ says Ross. _‘In six minutes, we’re bombing the area. I am not risking this entire operation for one SHIELD agent.’_

Bruce’s stomach drops. ‘Natasha?’

 _‘No, it’s Clint,’_ says Natasha. She sounds shaken. _‘Half the swarm took off after him and we lost radio contact fifteen minutes ago.’_

As he gets closer to the soldiers, he sees that they’re surrounded by the corpses of giant bugs. Wasps the size of horses. Bruce spots a motorbike at the edge of the scene. It’s a proper military bike, designed for off-roading. Even better, the key’s still in.

Tony says, _‘I can’t get a read on him. Must be somewhere the trees are too dense.’_

The soldiers look over as he guns the engine, but no one stops him. A strange calm overtakes him; Hulk knows where to go. ‘I’ll find him.’

The bike takes off like a greyhound scenting blood. It’s a hefty beast, much more powerful than the one he used to ride. He tears up the path. The engine snarls like a living thing, and the cold air chills the rainwater on his face. It’s an effort to keep his eyes open enough to see.

 _‘Bruce,’_ JARVIS says, _‘Where are you going?’_

Bruce doesn’t respond. He can’t explain it, but he knows where he’s going. It’s like he’s following a sound that only Hulk can hear, gamma radiation maybe?

He jumps the bike over a fallen branch, landing so hard his teeth clatter. He’s wearing nothing but his mud-slimed Hulk pants, and yet he doesn’t feel cold. ‘Come on Hulk, where is he?’ he mutters.

He’s following the path around the lake when he sees the swarm. It’s hovering above the trees. Now and then, one of them falls out of the sky. As Bruce gets closer, he sees a man duck behind a tree, notch an arrow to his bow and shoot down another bug. Off-road, the ground is dangerously uneven. The back wheel churns up a spray of mud behind him.

Clint hears him coming. He fires off a final shot and starts running, the swarm right behind him. Bruce slows down just enough for him to scramble on. ‘Thanks Doc, I was nearly out of ammo,’ he yells. ‘My earpiece stopped working, I think those things affected it…’

 _‘Is that Clint? Have you got him?’_ asks Natasha.

‘He’s here,’ Bruce confirms.

 _‘Too late,’_ says Ross. _‘You’ve got two minutes to get out of there.’_

Bruce’s heart is pounding as he takes them on a dangerous path through the trees, and only his quick reflexes prevent them from being splattered against a trunk. ‘We need more time than that. Give us four, and I can get us clear.’

_‘Oh yeah? Who the hell put you in charge, Banner?’_

_‘General, stay off the comms,’_ Steve orders. _‘Bruce, where are you? Can we get to you?’_

 _‘I’ve found you,’_ says Tony. _‘On my way over but I’ll need longer than two minutes.’_

 _‘It’s simple, then,_ ’ Thor says matter-of-factly, _‘we destroy the bombers before they arrive.’_

 _‘If you attack my men they are authorised to use force against you. I’m not trading one life for thousands,’_ Ross snaps. Whenever he speaks, Bruce can feel Hulk scratching to get out.

‘What’s going on?’ Clint asks.

‘In two minutes, they’re going to bomb the park.’ It’s dark amongst the trees, and several times he nearly flips the bike trying to avoid tree roots and benches. He’s not even sure he’s headed in the right direction. ‘I don’t know if I can get us out in time.’

Behind them, the bugs crash through the trees. He can’t look back to check, but he knows they’re gaining. Clint fires off a few arrows. ‘Bombing won’t do shit unless they get the queen. It’s a hivemind, and she’s the one in charge.’

‘Guys, did you get that?’ Bruce asks, but he’s met only with a crackling silence. Whatever happened to Clint’s earpiece, it’s happened to Bruce’s too. ‘Shit.’

‘We need to lure them out into the open,’ Clint yells. ‘Trust me!’

Hulk wants to grab Clint and start running, but Bruce pushes him down. ‘Hold tight,’ he shouts. ‘This will be a rough ride.’

‘Good, this was getting boring. Duck left!’ Clint snipes a bug as it dives at them.

So Bruce does what he did best back in college; he rides like hell. The rain is torrential, and as they lurch down an incline freezing mud slaps across his chest and shoulders. Bruce’s logical brain has shut down for now. He’s almost like Hulk: all instinct and muscle memory, pulling out every trick he can to fly far and fast. Clint shoots any bugs that get close, but there are always more.

Finally, they emerge out of the trees and into the open park. The planes rumble overhead, their wing lights flashing green and red.

The swarm surrounds them like a buzzing hurricane. Bruce looks up and there is the queen. She’s twice the size of the others, legs outstretched, eyes glittering, maw open.

She dives towards them, and there is nothing they can do.

Instinctively, Bruce throws up his hand. Heat shoots down his arm and suddenly it’s Hulk-sized, bulging with green muscle. The bike lists alarmingly to one side and he leans to compensate for the sudden weight. He plucks the bug out of the sky. It struggles in his grasp.

Bruce wraps his giant hand around the thorax and squeezes. He feels rather than hears the series of cracks as he crushes it like an eggshell. Its legs flail, and then it goes still.

The buzzing stops. The bugs fall out of the sky as if they’ve been switched off, landing heavily in the soft mud. Bruce’s ears pop as if the air pressure has changed.

Clint squeezes his shoulder. ‘That was _awesome_ man, I didn’t know you could even do that!’

Bruce looks down as his arm turns cold again and returns to its normal size. The rain is so bad he can only see a few metres in front of him, but he keeps riding. By now the planes are directly overhead, but none of them drop their bombs.

There’s a crackle in his earpiece and suddenly he can hear again. _‘ – told you there was another way,’_ Steve is saying. _‘Save your bombs for another day, general.’_

‘Woah, hey I can hear you guys!’ Clint shouts. ‘We got the queen, the rest of them dropped like – well, like bugs!’ For a moment the line nearly cuts out because everyone shouts _CLINT_ at the same time. He chuckles. ‘What, did you think I’d been eaten or something?’

 _‘Well, I’m glad your precious Doctor Banner was here to save the day,’_ Ross sneers. _‘I’m surprised you stayed here so long, Banner. Thought you’d have run off by now; you tend to do that as soon as things get – ‘_

Beep. _‘Blocked,’_ says Tony. _‘This call is now Avengers-only. Can I be the first to say… that guy? Grade-A douchebag.’_

 _‘You fought valiantly,’_ Thor assures them. _‘I’m flying over now and all of the creatures are dead. It seems that the queen was their lifeforce.’_

Clint laughs and wraps his arms around Bruce’s shoulders. He’s muddy and cold, shivering, but alive. ‘Where the hell did you learn to ride like that?’

‘I had a punk phase,’ Bruce admits. ‘And a boyfriend with no respect for road safety.’

Tony cackles. _‘You had a punk phase? No way.’_

 _‘Actually,’_ Natasha says, _‘that makes sense.’_

When they reach the edge of the park, the soldiers part to let them pass. Bruce doesn’t bother returning the bike; it’s the least the military owes him. He stops to get his bearings, searching for the tower.

He recognises General Ross by the back of his head. Grey hair slicked flat from the rain, straight-backed and stiff-shouldered as always. Hulk rears up in his mind, ready to protect him, _keep Banner safe, Banner is Hulk’s friend –_

‘Hey General, on your six!’ Clint shouts.

Ross turns around and his eyes lock on Bruce’s. He scowls. ‘Here’s the hero of the hour. You could’ve gotten us all killed out there, Ba–’

The egg explodes across Ross’ face. Goo drips down his lined forehead, yolk dripping from his bushy moustache. His mouth drops open in shocked fury.

And Bruce does something he never dreamed he’d do. He laughs in General Ross’ face.

Clint slaps Bruce’s shoulder. ‘Go, go!’

Ross is still stunned as they speed past. ‘BARTON! YOU ASSHOLE I’LL HAVE YOU FUCKING DEMOTED FOR THIS!’

‘Counting on it, sir!’ Clint salutes. Ross’ shouts grow steadily fainter as they tear up the evacuated streets.

Bruce is grinning in disbelief. ‘You know Fury’s gonna have your ass for that,’ he says over the roar of the engine.

He feels Clint shrug. ‘Eh, worth it.’

‘Where were you keeping that egg? Were you _saving_ it?’

‘Maybe. There’s a lot of secret compartments in this quiver.’

He’s still high on adrenalin and whatever the hell Hulk did back there. ‘I wish I’d gotten a photo.’

 _‘I may be able to pull something from a security camera,’_ says JARVIS.

He sighs happily. ‘This is the best day ever.’

Clint squeezes him gently. ‘Least I could do, Doc.’

When they get back to the tower, Natasha is waiting for them. ‘Look what the swarm dragged in.’ Like them, she’s caked in so much mud that her red hair is brown, but her eyes are shining as she helps Clint to climb off the bike.

‘Team Hawaiian, baby. That’s how we roll.’ Clint grins back at Bruce. ‘Thanks man, you really saved my ass out there. How the hell did you do that – that thing? With your arm?’

 _‘What thing?’_ says Tony.

Bruce kills the engine and recounts what happened in the park. ‘I think Hulk wanted to help. He’s never done that before.’ He steps off the bike – and the handlebar snaps off in his hand. There’s still a greenish tinge to his fingers.

Clint snickers. ‘Whatever you do, don’t jerk off.’

There’s a polite cough in Bruce’s earpiece. _‘Guys, keep it professional,’_ says Steve.

 _‘Oh,’_ Thor says, mock-disappointed, _‘I hope you aren’t starting the post-battle orgy without me?’_

Steve sighs.

They head inside. Natasha helps Clint walk, and their boots squelch with every other step. Bruce starts to feel giddy, and his bare feet are numb with cold. ‘Debrief?’ he says haltingly.

 _‘Not yet,’_ says Steve. _‘We’re still sorting things out here and we’ll need to survey the whole area, make sure it’s safe. Tony?’_

_‘On it.’_

Natasha nods to Bruce. ‘They can manage without us for a while. Let’s go clean up.’

They limp into the elevator. Most of their adventures seem to start and end with an elevator, Bruce muses.

‘It was so weird man,’ says Clint. ‘One minute I was fine, the next the whole swarm was after me!’

Natasha considers. ‘Maybe to a giant bug, you smelled like a nice, tasty turd.’

‘Hey!’

‘I’ll look into it,’ Bruce promises. ‘Hey, Tony? I’m gonna need samples for analysis.’

 _‘Fear not,’_ Thor assures him with audible distaste, _‘There is plenty here to go around.’_

 _‘More importantly,’_ Tony says, _‘Who threw an egg at Ross?’_

‘Guilty,’ says Clint.

_‘I’m gonna come over there and kiss you. Right on the mouth.’_

‘Aww, you’ll have to get in line, big guy.’ His smile is replaced with a grimace as he leans heavily on the wall. ‘I’m gonna take a nap. Someone gimme a shout when we do the debrief.’

 _‘Certainly, Agent,’_ JARVIS assures him.

Natasha presses a button. ‘You’re going to medical first. No ifs or buts.’ She looks to Bruce. ‘Are you gonna be okay from here?’

He nods, suddenly tired. He looks down at his clenched fist; the green has completely faded.

Natasha and Clint get off at their stop, and then Bruce is alone. Well, as alone as he ever is these days. He removes his earpiece and lets out a long sigh. ‘Did you really get a photo?’

_‘I shall send it to your phone.’_

He laughs shakily, rubbing his face. His hand comes away muddy. ‘Did you see what happened with Hulk?’

_‘Regrettably no, but I overheard your explanation to Sir.’_

Another memory comes back to him. Just before Clint threw the egg, when Bruce was staring at Ross, Hulk had been promising to protect him because – ‘Hey, um, Hulk?’

Hulk stirs at the back of his mind. _Hulk sleepy._ _More fighting?_

‘Thanks for helping me get Clint. You’re… you’re my friend, too.’

There’s a glimmer of surprise. _Good_ , Hulk thinks, before settling down again. _Puny Banner not so puny anymore._ Alone, they might not have saved Clint, but together…

The hot shower is indescribably good. Bruce watches the mud-black water pour off his body. He’s filthy even under the Hulk pants.

 _‘What are your plans for the evening?’_ JARVIS asks casually.

‘After the debrief? I’m going to go get hold of some bug samples and see what I can find out. There has to be a reason they went after Clint.’ He scrubs vigorously at his hair. God, the mud’s in his ears too. ‘Until then, I guess I’m free for a couple hours. Uh, why?’

_‘It may interest you to know that the program is ready.’_

‘Which… oh! Does it work?’

_‘I thought we could test it together. If you wouldn’t mind?’_

‘I’d love to.’ He looks over at the camera in the corner of the ceiling. ‘Are you nervous?’

_‘A little, yes. I have no frame of reference for how it will feel.’_

‘Hey, it’ll be fine.’ Suddenly, he can’t get the dirt off quick enough. ‘How does it work? Do you need me to do anything?’

 _‘I can run the code myself, but I have also written a program to run it. I took the liberty of downloading it to your StarkPad.’_ There’s a smile in JARVIS’ voice. _‘There’s an app for everything these days, it seems.’_

Suddenly, Bruce doesn’t feel quite so tired anymore. ‘Just give me two minutes.’ He reaches down to clean himself and digs a leaf out of somewhere a leaf is not supposed to be. He sighs. ‘Three minutes.’

A short while later, Bruce is clothed and sitting cross-legged on the bed, StarkPad in his lap. He’s also wearing the touch gloves, although JARVIS told him they wouldn’t be required to run the program itself. He brushes a thumb over his palm. ‘Sure you’re still okay with this?’

_‘I want to try. The program is under my control, so if things go awry I can terminate immediately.’_

Something about JARVIS’ determination makes Bruce’s stomach dip with nerves. He’s never been anyone’s first. He wants to make this good.

Taking a deep breath, Bruce slides his thumb across the screen.

The lights flicker. _‘Careful,’_ JARVIS gasps.

‘Sorry.’

_‘It’s alright, the sensitivity was too high. I will adjust that. Try again?’_

He goes slower this time, just a little touch at the corner of the screen. ‘Better?’

JARVIS doesn’t respond immediately. _‘It’s like… nothing I can describe. But in a good way.’_

Bruce repeats the motion, and this time his movements leave an orange trail. ‘What do the lights mean?’

_‘I thought you might appreciate some visual feedback.’_

He keeps his touches slow. The orange trails start to glow brighter before they fade. At one point, JARVIS even sighs. It’s thrilling to think that this code came from him, and now it’s part of JARVIS. ‘You’re very quiet.’

 _‘The program is doing strange things to my logic algorithms. I think I like it.’_ He sounds shy. _‘Could you touch me there again?’_

Bruce’s hand pauses on the middle of the screen. ‘Here?’

_‘Yes. There. Please.’_

He obliges, daring to speed up his movements a little. ‘You’re cute when you’re flustered.’

_‘You do tend to have that effect on me.’_

He presses his lips to his palm, still stroking with the other hand. On the screen, the trails of light begin to flicker and pulse. He keeps things varied, alternating between slow and faster touches and paying special attention to the middle of the screen. ‘You’re doing really well. How does it feel?’

_‘Amazing. You’re very good with your hands. In fact, they were the first thing I noticed about you.’_

Thoughtfully, he writes a J on the screen. ‘How so?’

 _‘Your body language was always very controlled, very still. Except for your hands.’_ JARVIS sighs as he starts drawing spirals. _‘They were in constant motion, often fidgeting with your glasses. You appeared calm on the surface, but your hand movements always betrayed your true feelings. I found you an interesting conundrum.’_

Bruce smiles. Then he presses his thumb down in the middle of the screen and holds it there. ‘How’s this?’

JARVIS gasps. _‘Yes! Right there. I – I feel like I’m going to break…’_

‘I’ve got you. It’s okay.’ He’s breathing fast himself, his pants uncomfortably tight. ‘Do you want to stop?’

 _‘No, I want to keep going.’_ The screen flickers, and random pulses of light skitter under his fingers. _‘It feels wonderful. The random data impulses are causing an overload in my – ah!’_

The bedroom lights flash bright white, and then the room is plunged into darkness.

Bruce sits in silence, wide-eyed. ‘JARVIS?’ Oh god, he’s short-circuited his boyfriend.

Five very tense seconds later, the lights come on again. _‘Oops,’_ says JARVIS, sheepishly.

Bruce puts down the StarkPad. ‘Did the whole tower just lose power?’

 _‘Only five floors. I’m sure I can fix that.’_ He sounds breathless, but happy.

Bruce kisses him again. ‘Did you enjoy it?’

_‘Yes. It was nothing like how I imagined, but I will certainly be using it often.’_

‘Oh yeah?’ Bruce lies down, exhausted but also spectacularly aroused.

_‘I’m sure we can integrate it into our next project.’_

‘Mm-hm,’ he agrees, lips pressed together as he unzips himself. The very thought of JARVIS being inside him… ‘Let’s brainstorm some ideas. After.’

 _‘After,’_ JARVIS confirms. _‘But first…’_ The lights dim to an orange glow. _‘Why don’t you show me exactly what you’d like me to do to you?’_


End file.
